


hear my prayer

by primasveraas



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Adoption, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Domestic Fluff, Finnpoe - Freeform, Gen, Heavy Angst, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Post-Canon, Post-Star Wars: The Rise of Skywalker, Sad, Sickfic, and alll your emotions, and that's not fluff, for some of it at least, former stormtrooper adoption, i will warn you, it is not an easy or happy read, it is sad, limited force ghosts, no force healing, original finnpoe kids, there's lots of fluff but there's also plot??, this will come for you, tros force powers are void
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-29
Updated: 2020-08-15
Packaged: 2021-02-28 16:26:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 13
Words: 62,467
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23350156
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/primasveraas/pseuds/primasveraas
Summary: “That’s exactly it,” Finn says, tone angry and full of the conviction that got him appointed general in a galactic war. “You didn’t sign up for this.”Poe turns Finn’s face towards him, gently cupping his jaw so that their gazes meet. “I thought I did,” he says softly, and he closes the gap between them. “I Poe,” he kisses Finn again, slow and tantalizing  “take you, Finn...”This time, the kiss is long, and Finn shifts towards him, opening to the connection. His hands travel to Poe’s hair, pulling their bodies together.“...in sickness,” Poe continues when they separate, still punctuating his next words with another kiss, “and in health.”
Relationships: Finn & Rey (Star Wars), Kes Dameron & Poe Dameron, Poe Dameron & Leia Organa, Poe Dameron & Rey, Poe Dameron/Finn
Comments: 109
Kudos: 98





	1. I

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hear my prayer, again and again  
> ‘I love you  
> I love you  
> I love you’  
> Beyond anything else in the galaxy  
> I can hope to comprehend.  
> I love you.  
> (We just need more time)

“Dad! It’s raining!”

Poe groans softly and rolls over in bed to see his youngest daughter in the doorway, eyes wide and electric as her hair, which is ungroomed and sticking up in all directions. She is the mirror image of Finn, from her brown eyes to her dark skin, and she is staring at Poe expectantly.

“Sweetheart, aren’t you tired? Isn't it too early for little girls to be running around in the rain?”

Hera rolls her eyes, waiting impatiently. She is still in her sleep clothes, with a blanket wrapped around her small frame, but morning is here and as the baby of the family, she dictates when the day starts. He can never quite resist, and Poe’s tone betrays him; he won’t break a promise to any of his children and they both know it. A grin splits across Poe’s face, and he turns over briefly to kiss Finn’s bare shoulder, his husband still deep in slumber. Then, blinking sleep out of his eyes, he rises.

The house is quiet; in their family, Poe was always the one to wake first, even when it was just him and Finn in the early days of their relationship. When they adopted Hera, about a year after the battle on Exogol, that changed. She is the most energetic, most ebullient of their children. If there is daylight, it shouldn’t be wasted; if there is rain they should wake to see the clouds pour down on the forests of Yavin IV.

He takes her hand, allowing Hera to lead him down the halls to the front room. Her palm is cold against his. It is a brisk morning, and Poe suspects that Hera has been awake for a while now, abandoning the warmth of her bed at the earliest of hours. He resists the urge to pick her up and carry her, to protect her from the pervasive chill of the house. 

Hera is nine already, still their baby but growing bigger by the day. Poe supposes that she’s their only baby, given that her three siblings were adopted as older children whereas Hera became a part of their family when she was just one. But even the fact that she allows Poe to hold her hand demonstrates Hera's intelligence; she knows that simply because she is the youngest, she has her entire family of warriors, Jedi, and heroes all wrapped around her finger.

When they reach the living room, Hera pulls away from Poe, going straight towards the front window, which is large enough that she can see the very tops of the trees letting the torrent slip through their branches, all the way down to the ground where the water amasses in puddles.

Poe’s daughter has taken to dancing in the rain and splashing in the puddles, which is entirely fine until she tracks mud into the house and starts a war with her siblings in the fight over cleaning it up. Rey, in particular, had found this amusing, leading Poe to suspect that it was her who inspired Hera with the joys of celebrating the rain in the first place.

But today, Hera simply slumps to the carpet in front of the ceiling-to-floor window, transfixed with the outdoors. A smile ghosts Poe’s lips as he watches her, then he snaps into action, grabbing an additional blanket from the sofa to wrap her in. Hera smiles at him, muttering her thanks, then turns back to the rain.

Poe scrubs his face with his hand, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes and feeling the layer of stubble that’s grown over the past few days. It must have been at least two days since he shaved last, although he can’t exactly remember when it was. Yesterday morning, Lynia had needed his help right away for the final details about her application for the finishing academy on Onderon, and the day before that, he had awoken in Temmin’s bed after his son spent a sleepless night ravaged by nightmares.

The weary father sighs and turns to the kitchen. The other kids will be up soon, and Poe will miss the quiet of the morning with just one child. For now, he’ll cook breakfast and see if that’ll attract his older children, and his husband too.

Sure enough, the smell of pancakes lures his other three kids out of bed. Lynia is first, alert but quiet as she fully wakes, her sandy waves of curly hair still a ruffled mess. When Walton and Temmin join her nearly ten minutes later, Walton begins threatening Hera, saying he’ll eat her pancakes if she doesn’t get breakfast soon. She runs to the table shrieking, shoving against her oldest brother in an effort to evict him from his spot at the table, then the house is alive again, and the day starts.

As breakfast winds down, Finn is still notably absent. Despite his love of sleeping in, the level of noise and activity in their cabin is enough to wake a herd of bantha. 

“Do you know where your father is?” Poe asks, glancing down the dark hallway. “Was he up when you came in?”

“No,” answers Walton, “it didn’t sound like it, anyways.”

“That’s surprising,” Lynia chimes in, poking her little sister in the ribs, “given how much noise Hera has been making since the crack of dawn.”

Hera pouts, but the edges of Poe’s mouth quirk up in spite of himself. “I waited! I waited for Papa to get up, like he always tells me, and then I was quiet, too!” She sticks her tongue out in fierce defiance. “Besides, you always get up right after me, anyways.”

Lynia hums in disagreement, but she’s grinning. Something in Poe’s chest swells at this, his concern for Finn aside. 

After preparing a plate for Finn, and collecting the other’s dishes as he goes, Poe returns to their bedroom. There is a steady rise and fall of breath under a heap of covers, and Poe clambers over his side of the bed to reach Finn.

“Morning, handsome,” Poe murmurs, voice low, hands traveling over Finn’s torso to turn him over. Poe lowers himself down to his beloved, kissing the other man awake. A small groan is his answer, then Finn blinks awake, wrinkling his nose at the roughness of Poe’s stubble.

“You need to shave,” he says gravelly, but he reaches up to cup Poe’s cheek anyway, bringing their lips together again.

“Someone has to make sure our daughter doesn’t run into the jungle and come back soaking wet and covered in mud. I didn’t exactly have time for such luxuries like shaving.”

“Mm.” Finn sits up in bed, propped up on his elbows. “You haven’t even gotten dressed yet?”

“No, but I did make breakfast,” Poe offers, kissing Finn’s cheek before climbing out of bed again. “How did you sleep, _cariño?_ It’s late.”

Finn glances at the chronometer. “I slept fine. And it’s barely late. ”

Poe snorts, throwing a shirt over his head. “For this house, it is. All your kids are awake already.”

“Oh, they're my kids now, are they, Dameron? You’re the one who lets them drag you out of bed. And you know what you do in retaliation? You make them breakfast.”

From the refresher, where he has finally begun to shave, Poe calls: “You’re the one who staged a galactic operation to save them, _Dameron._ ”

Throwing the covers off him, Finn snorts. Once the war had ended, his mission had been realized; he rescued all the children the First Order had taken. Although many had been reunited with their families where possible, the orphans left behind had gradually been adopted or were taken in by Finn’s operation. His task meant he didn’t have to fight, for the most part, and he loved taking care of the children. Four of them, in particular, had worked their way into his heart.

Finn stands and immediately grabs onto the wall to steady himself, lightheaded from rising so quickly. He still feels tired, even after the extra hour of rest this morning and going to bed relatively early the night before.

“Kids.” Finn sighs, and starts his day.

Despite that it’s a weekend, the Dameron household is as busy as ever. Hera has to struggle through whatever homework a nine-year-old receives, and although Walton sits down with her to help, her focus flees away from the holo in front of her. It doesn’t help that her sister and other brother are noticeably not doing the same- Lynia is on the commns trying to find a roommate off-world, and Temmin is working quietly in his room. Meanwhile, Finn is haggling with a Senator from Chrandrilla about a new adoption center, and Poe tries to juggle all the above in whatever way he can, from redirecting Hera to making sure Temmin doesn’t need help, especially since he hasn’t yet found the confidence to ask for it himself.

Halfway through the afternoon, Finn collapses onto the couch, shutting off the datapad, his eyes sliding closed. Poe, on his way to answer Hera’s calls for help, presses a kiss to Finn’s forehead.

“You good, babe?”

Silently, Finn nods. “Tired,” he says, “but good.”

Night falls. Their youngest kids are tucked into bed, with Walton and Lynia gently reminded to go to bed at a reasonable hour. Calm returns at last, even to the bedroom, where Finn is squinting determinedly at his datapad and Poe is watching him with a skeptical eye.

“Are you alright?” Poe asks, and next to him in bed, Finn serves him a typical look of impatience.

“I told you, I’m okay,” Finn insists, taking Poe’s hand and pressing his lips against their intertwined fingers. “I’ve just been tired lately.”

But the crease on Poe’s brow doesn’t go away, even after Finn continues to kiss Poe’s knuckles, then his jaw and the side of his mouth in an attempt to distract the other man. Poe pulls away slightly, his expression still pinched with worry. “You’ve been very tired lately. Like concerning amounts of tired.”

Finn regards him with patience; he knows his husband isn’t trying to coddle, but this still isn’t a conversation unworthy of total deviation from the topic at hand. 

“Only tired, I promise. In fact,” Finn says, inching closer to nip the sensitive bit of skin just below Poe’s ear, “let me prove to you how okay I am.” 

Poe laughs then, squirming under Finn, and fully kisses his husband, intending to do much, much more than just that. He shifts in bed, then Finn is under him, deepening the kiss, and-

After, Poe watches Finn fall asleep, much quicker than he ever has before, and knows in his heart that something is wrong.

Their normalcy continues uninterrupted, aside from the barely-repressed grief at the knowledge that their daughter is undeniably in her twenties and ready to leave the nest, and Hera’s heightening glee at the approaching end of the school term. As she had proudly reminded her parents, she turns ten this approaching summer and will finally join her older siblings in the double digits. In turn, Walton had told her that he and Lynia were both adults, or practically so, and therefore this hardly mattered. Yet, Hera’s insistence about the matter trumped any teasing from her brother, and the sentiment persisted. 

Thus, their dynamic was much the same, but Poe couldn’t help to notice what was happening with Finn, who’s levels of exhaustion persisted at a new high. While Finn had blamed this on his advanced age, Poe, in his forties, scoffed at his partner. But, he was willing to brush his own worries aside so long as Finn maintained that he was indeed actually fine.

They’re at the table, Temmin reviewing city apartments on Onderon with Lynia. Finn and Poe are supervising, exchanging nervous glances from time to time as reality sets in; their daughter is really moving off-planet and away from them. But under the table, their hands are clasped tightly together, and that comfort suffices until Finn extracts himself, features contorting suddenly.

“Kriff,” Finn mutters, pulling his hand away from his face and seeing the blood on his fingers. “Nosebleed.”

Lynia’s head jerks up, but Temmin is already on the move, grabbing some nearby napkins and pressing them into his father’s grip. Finn grunts in thanks before heading to the ‘fresher to clean up, but Poe’s gaze lingers on his retreating figure.

During this interlude, it is Lynia and Temmin who wipe up the drops of blood staining the wood of the table. Wordlessly, Poe rises to follow Finn, giving his children soft thanks for their help.

His lover is leaning against the wall, washing the bloodstains from beneath his nose with a dampened towel. Raising his hand, Poe wipes off Finn’s chin and it comes away wet and red. It’s quiet till the bleeding stops, then Poe speaks.

“Let me see your palms.”

Finn looks at him, a long, exasperated glance that spares Poe no mercy. _“Querido,_ just give me your damn hands,” Poe says, and Finn finally complies.

The other man’s hands are cold in Poe’s. He frowns, holding them close for careful inspection.

“What?” Finn says after a few moments in silence, his tone completely flat.

“Your palms are bloodless. No red, see? And they're cold. Bad circulation.”

“Or I’m just chilly, Poe.”

The wrinkle in his husband’s brow deepens. “Your hands are always warm though.”

Finn knows his love well enough to recognize where uneasiness has been taken over by persistent worry. And Poe is emoting, anyways, through the Force, as clear as day. He weaves his fingers through Poe’s and grips his hand tight.

“I know you’re worried. But if I feel bad, I’ll tell you, alright? I promise. I’m fine, sweetheart.” Finn closes the gap between them with a kiss, but it is chaste and brief, for Poe shakes his head slightly, lips brushing against Finn’s.

“Maybe we should get you checked out.”

“Maybe you should worry less, Dameron. Your hair will go grey slower.”

His mouth drops open in protest. “You’re rude, you know. I’m your husband who loves you and you’re rude to me.”

Smirking in response, Finn kisses Poe again to mollify his hurt feelings. “It’ll go away, then we’ll see who was rude, alright?”

Poe drops his head onto Finn’s shoulder. “Alright."

* * *

It doesn’t go away.

Nosebleeds become a near-daily occurrence. Finn is tired, falling asleep at his desk, or taking long naps to get through each day. He sleeps more and more but claims that he feels normal. 

It’s not, compared to Poe, or Finn’s behavior from a year ago. But the change has been subtle, until suddenly it’s not. Until Poe is holding Finn close to him, and there’s suddenly much less of the man he loves, and he’s thinner, and eating less, and-

“I’ve lost ten pounds,” Finn announces from the scale, watching his husband with careful eyes. His voice is quiet but unafraid, and this does not go unnoticed by the former pilot.

“Shit,” Poe says.

At Poe’s insistence, Finn sees a meddroid. He schedules the appointment a few weeks in advance, then makes the trip to the local medcenter on his own soon after. When he gets home, Poe is waiting anxiously, but Finn just smiles, kissing him on the cheek and shrugging.

“They said my hemoglobin looked low. They don’t know why, but they said they’d call in a few days with more results.” 

Poe’s lips are pursed as he listens, but Finn pulls him close and gives him another kiss on the forehead. In his embrace, Poe relaxes just a fraction but stays silent.

“They aren’t worried,” Finn continues. “And we’ll know by the weekend what’s going on.”

They comm the next day, at 0830, less than an hour after the medcenter opens. Finn answers, then disappears into their bedroom so that Hera and Temmin, who are watching intently, can’t hear.

When he reemerges, Poe meets him in the quiet of the hallway. “They want to do more testing,” he murmurs, and Poe’s heart clenches with fear. “Today, if I can.”

“Alright,” Poe says, taking his husband’s hand without thinking. “I’ll go with you.”

Together, they depart, but not before Lynia can give them her sternest and most critical glare. They had agreed not to tell the children until definitive results came through, but it was hard to miss the changes in Finn’s health, and the whispered conversations between the parents occurring with increasing frequency. Still, she stands silently as Finn presses a kiss to her forehead and instructs her to watch Temmin and Hera. 

Poe assures her that they’ll be back soon, but the look in her eyes tells him that it’s a short matter of time before she demands an answer to this secrecy and uncertainty.

This is what Poe chooses to think about instead of Finn as he steers their speeder to the medcenter, but when they arrive, there’s little he can do to avoid his anxieties.

Poe knows the signs, in hindsight. His mom’s death had been sudden and unexpected, and that memory is guarded by the haze of the years that have passed since then. But after, when he had the time and understanding to look up the cause of her death, the symptoms had been there. And when he became a pilot, and therefore responsible for lives other than his own- messy lives, with chronic illnesses and wounds, and accidents- he learned how to identify the hallmarks of diseases like anemia and allergies and the warning signs of an imminent heart attack.

Finn is holding his hand again. He’s still cold, but the ventilated, perfectly clean air in the medcenter is biting anyway. They sit hunched together, waiting in chairs that are cushioned but still fail to be comfortable. A holo has been playing the same message over and over for all the time that they’re been waiting, but they sit quietly and listen to the droid on the screen tell them proper handwashing procedure for the fifteenth time.

“Poe,” Finn says, giving the other man’s hand a squeeze. “It’s gonna be fine. They’ll do some testing and tell us what’s wrong. They said they weren’t worried yesterday.”

 _They don’t call you back less than 24 hours later if they’re not worried,_ Poe thinks, but he simply squeezes back in response. He may have been raised during a war, but he knows enough about medcenters to realize that.

“Finn Dameron?” The automated voice of a meddroid calls into the mostly-empty reception room. Poe’s heart is thudding in his chest as Finn releases his hand and stands.

Poe follows Finn in silence as they trek back to a private room. The droid doesn’t bother to introduce itself, and immediately begins rattling off questions about Finn’s general health and date of birth. Finn shares a glance with Poe as he gives his best approximation of when he was born, and Poe offers a small smile, trying to emulate comfort the best he can.

They stop in a small alcove off to the side of the cluster of rooms so that Finn can be weighed and get his height measured. The droid is snappish and impatient, delivering directions hurriedly and repeating itself when Finn doesn’t follow its instructions immediately. Finn is smirking by the time his blood pressure is taken, and laughs out loud when the droid tells Poe to leave so Finn can change into a flimsy gown once they reach their room. His next suggestion to the droid about the matter is no more decorous.

The droid makes an incomprehensible noise that has to be a sigh, and rolls out of the room, Poe watching as it goes.

“Did you come just to see me get naked?” Finn teases, lifting his shirt off his head and tossing it at Poe, who snorts and starts to fold the discarded clothes.

“Maybe,” Poe confesses, shaking his head and unable to hide his amusement. Finn laughs again, folding his pants before hopping up on the biobed.

It’s a few minutes before the droid returns, and this time, Poe joins in on harassing him, doing anything he can to evoke more laughter from Finn. He watches carefully from his seat as the droid collects not one, not two, but three vials of blood from Finn. It performs two scans next, a blindingly bright light shining as it skims over Finn’s body.

“Hey,” Poe warns. “Only I’m allowed to check out my husband like that. You better be careful buddy.”

The droid clicks in disapproval. “For your information, I am doing a full-body tomographic scan, and if you or my patient could take this seriously, it would make my job much easier! Hold still, please!” He adds, when Finn chuckles out loud, mirroring the grin on Poe’s face.

It’s over soon enough. The droid leaves the room grumbling, and Finn hears it say “transmitting samples now. Diagnosis within the hour.”

When Finn turns back to Poe, the other man’s skin has paled noticeably. Reality has finally begun to set back in.

“Come’ere,” Finn mutters, extending his hand for Poe to take. He complies, stepping between Finn’s legs and pressing his forehead against the other man.

Through the Force, Finn can feel Poe’s tightly wound bundle of nerves. With one hand, he rubs circles into Poe’s tense shoulders, and with the other, he cups Poe’s jaw, bringing them closer together still.

“I love you, Poe,” he sighs. “Sweetheart, it's just one step at a time until we figure this out.”

Nodding against him, Poe presses a kiss to his lips. “Alright.” His eyes are an inch away from Finn’s. Long, dark eyelashes blink at him slowly, and the ghost of a smile skirts over Poe’s face. Even now, he’s the luckiest man in the galaxy- not to be here, but to be here with Finn.

After nearly forty minutes of waiting, left entirely to their own devices, the hydraulic hiss of the door separates them, and Poe jumps back to retake his empty seat next to the bed. 

A Togruta woman steps in. She’s donned in a long white coat, which matches the neat white headdress covering the base of her montrals. “Good afternoon,” she says in a clear, ringing voice. 

Although her tone is soft and accompanied by a smile, there is an explicit authority to her demeanor, from her perfectly rigid back to the way her expression is a little too pinched not to be forced. While Finn smiles easily back, Poe’s breath hitches. He knows that smile; he’s seen it on the faces of countless doctors delivering news about his injured friends and Black Squadron members, and it was the look that D’Acy had on Ajan Kloss when Leia-

“Finn. I’m Doctor Rhys Pheraa. How are you?” She asks, and Poe decides then to take Finn’s hand again.

Finn shrugs. “I feel fine. A little tired, here and there. But normal.”

There is a lump in Poe’s throat, and he can’t breathe around it. The corners of the doctor's mouth stretch again, but this time, they waver ever so slightly.

“Well, we know why you’re here. We wanted to do more testing, and we have. Based on your initial tests, we felt it was important to get you definitive results as soon as we could.”

Now, the last traces of joy drain from Finn. He feels cold and exposed, even with the warmth of Poe’s hand on his.

“The mineral levels of your blood were abnormally low. In addition, we noticed that your red blood cells seemed to be regenerating slowly…” She drones on, her voice peaceful and calm, explaining what they did and the results of the scans. It’s mostly jargon neither men understand, but they wait for her to finish. Her eyes never drop from Finn’s gaze.

“Even based on additional testing, your condition is something we were unable to diagnose based on the symptoms you described and the results we procured. However, it is clear that you have some disorder of the blood and cardiovascular system that affects your iron and calcium intake to a severe degree. We will prescribe you medicine to reduce the effects for now, and continue with testing as necessary.” Then, Pheraa stops abruptly, looking at them both expectantly.

“So what now? That’s it?” Poe demands, tone low and haughty. Finn’s grip tightens. “You’re giving him medicine without knowing what this disorder is?”

The doctor blinks once, and when she resumes speaking, her words are more careful than ever before. “General Dameron, this is an idiopathic condition, but a serious one. We believe that the symptoms your husband is experiencing are likely the beginning of a greater array of effects. Like I told you, we accelerated the growth of some of his live blood cells overnight, and the conclusions were quite adverse. The deterioration he’s experiencing will only heighten from here. Until we know what the cause of this illness is, preventative medicine for his symptoms is absolutely necessary.”

“Adverse.” Finn cuts off Poe, who has opened his mouth again. “What does adverse mean for me?”

Doctor Pheraa sighs. “The cells experienced accelerated regeneration and reproduction for a variety of simulated time periods. Even at the earliest onset of a month, the cells died quickly and lost their performative function. Although the majority of cells operated normally, enough seemed to be corrupted that, over time, all cells in each sample stopped growing and carrying oxygen or nutrients. They were, in effect, mutated ghost cells. I’ve never seen anything like it. 

“The condition, when prolonged, increased in severity and rate of spread. It is crucial that Finn’s body operations continue normally, and whatever effects possible are reversed.”

“So what are you saying?” Finn doesn’t miss a beat. “What could happen to me?”

A pause. “We don’t know. But based on our predictive models, and what similar conditions we could identify, it is entirely possible that further degeneration of the body’s systems can occur, to a debilitating level.”

“However.” She smiles yet again, reaching out to touch Finn’s knee. An empty gesture of comfort. Finn jerks at the contact, and she pulls away. “You’re in good hands here. With additional testing, we’ll be able to figure out what the problem is soon, and get to treating you right away.”

The sterile air is choking them both. Poe’s features harden into solid stone, and Finn is clutching his fingers impossibly tight. Pheraa is still talking, telling them how it seems overwhelming, but they have a great team here at the medcenter, and everything will be fine, and Finn is in good health aside from the obvious, and neither one in the couple can hear her. 

Their eyes meet, kind brown to soft black, and even while Poe’s heart breaks just a little, he knows that Finn has him, and he has Finn, and they have both never known how not to be strong. They can face this- come what may.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so excited to share this with y'all! I love all of the soft Finnpoe fluff I’ve written, but now it's time for a bigger project. I hope you guys enjoyed this first chapter; please let me know what you think!  
> I used https://www.fantasynamegenerators.com/togruta-names.php to find the last name Pheraa.  
> Thanks to my beta editors Anna and Meghan!  
> Comments and kudos are love! You can also find me @primasveraas-writing on tumblr for more fanfic or any questions/additional feedback.


	2. II

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> “You can’t stop the change, any more than you can stop the suns from setting.” -Shmi Skywalker

Poe stops the speeder just outside their home. His hands have been shaking on the controls for the duration of the journey home, with Finn silent beside him. A pregnant pause hovers over them, neither daring to bring this heaviness back into their home.

There’s a hardness in Finn’s throat that won’t go away. Although his tone remains steady, the words fly from him too urgently, too quickly not to be panicked. “We don’t tell them today, okay? We can do it tomorrow.”

A rough hand covers his own, Poe’s grip trembling. “Of course,” Poe mutters. Before either one of them can think, Poe grabs Finn’s head, kissing his brow, and the weight on Finn’s heart sinks deeper, down into his stomach. “Whatever we need to do.”

The look on Poe’s face is crushing; his eyes are tight and welling, and his mouth is pinched into a firm line. Pitying isn’t the right word to describe his expression, but there’s something close to it painted across his husband’s features. Finn suddenly wishes that they were back to their lives even a year ago, before he had to go to a medcenter twice in a week or lay awake at night recalling every moment of fatigue and lightheadedness, wondering how much of his behavior over the last few months had been inhibited because of this disorder.

But there is little choice but to exit the speeder, and confront what lies inside the best they can. Instead of speaking, Poe weaves his fingers through Finn’s as they trek towards the house. Finn focuses on the life all around them rather than anything else. There’s the soft ground beneath his boots, the vines creeping up the side of their house, the frogs and lilies flourishing in the pond nearby. The tall trunks of the surrounding trees hum with strength, from their roots embedded deep within the ground to the leaves at the very ends of their branches, extended towards the sun far above them. There is calm all around them, and Finn knows the peace, even if he can’t reach it himself.

When they step inside, Lynia is waiting by the door, her jaw clenched, and Walton at her side. While their eldest daughter is gracing them with her hardest glare, Walton’s gaze is softer and drawn with concern.

This doesn’t surprise Finn. Out of all their children, Walton is the most patient and altruistic; he cares deeply and without effort. When the Resistance found him, he was already partaking in a rebellion against the First Order. Blastfire had erupted across the planet, and at the forefront was Walton. Against all the white of the Stormtrooper armor, there was their son, helmet off, and dark hair flying around him. His russet skin and sharp cheekbones stood out against the uniformity of the First Order; he wore his identity proudly, despite the danger it posed to him. And even then, his voice was already familiar to them. It had echoed across the stars, the words of a child in a call to arms for liberation for all First Order troops.

Finn knows this same compassion is reflected in his son’s gaze now, and pride swells from deep within him.

“What’s going on with Dad?” Lynia demands, and Finn recognizes the toughness of her words. It’s a tone she rarely uses; the harsh, blunt diction is adapted from her days as a stormtrooper. She was thirteen when they adopted her. It had taken years for her to relax, to not bite with her words, but even now, she is unafraid to leverage her anger for answers.

“Lynia,” Poe says, voice sharp, and Finn’s breath hitches, his body noticeably stiffening. “We’ll tell you tomorrow.”

Something flashes across her features until she catches her father’s gaze, which are very nearly swimming with tears. The frown lines set around her mouth remain set, but the green of her eyes yields almost imperceptibly. 

“Alright,” she finally mutters, stepping aside to let them into the house. Poe guides Finn past the entrance gently, an arm cradling his lower back.

The house is muted for the rest of the day. Hera still talks incessantly at dinner, and this at least lures a smile onto both men’s faces. Walton is the one who encourages her the most, the best at matching her positivity and enthusiasm, though Finn does not miss the continual glances he shares with Lynia, nor the way Temmin is exceptionally quiet that night. 

As they clean up from dinner, and after Hera is tucked carefully into bed, his oldest son approaches him again. Out of all their kids, Walton is the best at maintaining the calm. There is a familiar serenity in his dark eyes that Finn has admired as long as he’s known his son. 

“Dad,” Walton says, and his voice is even and calm, “we’re just worried about you. We know there’s some stuff going on with your health, and we want to help.”

The concern illuminated across his face eats away at Finn’s heart, a deep crawling in his chest that persists despite his best efforts. But even if he’s terrified, uncertain, and facing a potential personal medical crisis, he can do this much and take care of his son when he’s scared.

Behind Walton, Poe is watching carefully, attention darting between his son and husband. The corner of Finn’s lips tug up at the protective stance, and Poe relents upon seeing this.

Finn pulls Walton into a tight hug. Walton’s black hair, long and straight, is long enough that it brushes against his hands at the base of his son’s back. “I know you do,” he says into Walton’s shoulder. His son is nearly as tall as he is, and Finn feels older than ever before. “And Papa and I will tell you what’s going on. We’re just waiting on the doctors for more information.”

Walton is smart enough to know this isn’t the whole truth, but he’s also kind and patient enough to grant Finn the benefit of the doubt. “Okay, Dad,” he says, and ever easily, he smiles, giving Finn another squeeze before departing the room.

“We did a good job with him,” Poe says, echoing Finn’s thoughts, and Finn realizes that this moment of pride is probably the happiest either of them has been all day. Finn finds he can imitate Walton’s expression more smoothly now, and he places his hands on Poe’s hips, pulling the other man close. The corners of his mouth are still delightfully turned up when he kisses Poe.

After the moment passes, Finn rests his forehead against Poe’s shoulder, Poe pressing a kiss to the nape of his neck. “We’ll be alright,” Poe murmurs, and the breath from his words is hot against Finn’s skin. It’s impossible to tell if either of them can believe the sentiment then, but nevertheless, the faith will get them through the night.

Poe’s lips move silently, in the language he grew up speaking but few outside the Yavin system would understand.

_Ay_ _ú_ _denme, dioses. Por favor._

Poe does not believe in any gods. Even while his father was religious, Poe was only educated about his father’s beliefs rather than raised with them. He had a choice in the matter, and he’s only hoped to pray at his most desperate.

_Let it be easily and quickly cured. Let Finn be okay._

It is silent in their bedroom, aside from the quiet snuffles of Finn’s deep breathing. One of the other moons circling Yavin is waning, dim beams cast through their window. Still, Poe can make out the features on his husband’s face, from the sloping curve of his nose to the roundness of his lips.

_If there’s a god out there, hear me, por favor._

_Not him. Not Finn._

Poe prays. He haggles and he begs, and he hopes to gods he doesn’t believe in that this will all be over soon, and Finn will come out all the stronger. He prays to know and to banish the uncertainty from their household, and to ensure that his children will never know the adversity of a seriously ill parent fading in front of their eyes.

_Dioses, lo necesito. Te necesito ayudarnos. Para mi. Para Finn. Para mis hijos._

_My husband is a good man. Let him be okay. Please._

Poe wakes gently the next morning, tucked into Finn’s chest, the mess of his bedhead disturbed only by his beloved’s exhalations. As Poe comes to full awareness, he watches Finn, admiring the beauty of his long dark eyelashes against the roundness of his cheeks. Then Finn blinks awake, hugging Poe to his body as he stirs. Finn’s fingers are tangled in Poe’s curls, Poe’s hand resting on Finn’s cheek.

They’re kissing then, sudden at first but relaxing into it as time slows. Poe stretches, arching so he’s over Finn. His lower lip is in Finn’s mouth, a groan at the base of his throat, and he needed this- to be young and absurdly romantic, to kiss his husband into consciousness, terrible morning breath and all.

“I love you,” Finn mutters, and it’s hurried against Poe’s mouth as the kiss deepens. When they were still in the honeymoon phase of their relationship, waking up this way wasn’t uncommon- rather, if they didn’t wake up with their hands all over each other, it was only because they were separated by space and time. Or, once they settled into their life together, because they had one kid or another preventing even one night of rest uninterrupted and alone.

When they pull back, both breathless, Poe has the same relaxed smile on his face that’s made Finn’s heart flutter for well over a decade. He’s looking at Finn like he’s the only light in the universe, eyes wide and soft, bottom lip chewed between his teeth. Even now, it makes heat flame across Finn’s face, a warmth that also stirs in his chest and spreads wildly to his stomach.

 _“Mi amor,”_ Poe tells him, and the feeling grows.

Poe watches his children and hopes they will never remember the details of what occurs this day.

When his mother died, the events leading up to her last moments were menial and unextraordinary, yet they are etched into his memory permanently, even after all these years. If all goes well, today will be forgetful, rather than a pivotal moment in their young lives.

He worries, in particular, about Temmin. As a child, Poe was loud and expressive, and when he lost his mother, his grief exploded into the open air. Whereas Kes knew what his son needed, for the most part, Poe thinks he may never reach Temmin again if he is consumed by anxiety and sorrow. Their son, already small, easily shrinks into himself, hiding behind his mess of hair. Between his scrawny frame and wide eyes, it’s not hard to imagine Temmin retreating further into the shell he’s so carefully crafted to protect himself, despite the collective effort to make him more comfortable in his life and home. He’s accustomed now, Poe knows, but at times, the balance is precarious. It can still be unraveled in an instant on bad days.

A sense of mourning already pervades the house. Laughter is cut short by fleeting glances between parents and siblings, and Poe realizes that there isn’t a person alive who knows what to expect next, which might be the worst part. He wants to understand, to put his paranoia aside, but the possibility of these days being some of the last before his whole universe is upheaved is unbearable. It doesn’t help, either, that he can see Finn wincing, and he says he’s inexplicably sore when asked.

They call a family meeting once all the children have settled in after school. This perhaps is what finally shatters the muted atmosphere in the household; like the surface tension of water breaking, the fragile bubble too big to withstand any more outside pressure. As a family, they spend the greater part of all their days together, but a planned congregation infamously guarantees bad news. Nonetheless, the whole Dameron clan piles into onto their sofa, Hera curled in Poe’s arms, Temmin seeking comfort next to Finn, with Walton and Lynia situated in the middle.

“Dad and I have something to tell you guys,” Poe starts, and all six of them still almost instantaneously, their typical energy dissipating in an instant. “And we want you guys to know that it’s going to be okay, alright?”

Finn takes a deep breath. “I’ve been seeing the doctor lately because I haven’t been feeling well.” His voice is steady and calm, and he looks at his children without meeting their eyes. “There’s something wrong with the way my blood and my heart work. I’m sick.”  
He swallows, hard. “It’s going to be alright.” Temmin is already crying; Lynia goes rigid from head to toe, and Finn reaches out to hold her hand. “We’re working with a lot of really good doctors to help me get better, but things may be a little different now.” He looks at Hera, who is staring up at Poe with wide eyes, and he hugs her tighter.

“You know how I’ve been tired lately? And having some nosebleeds more often?”

Hera is the only one who nods; Finn’s explanation is simplified for her alone anyway, so he goes on.

“Well, now we know why. And we’re trying to make it better, but that might mean I have to be away from home to see the doctors again sometimes. I also might be a lot more tired for a while.”

“What’s it called?” Walton sounds nearly strangled. “What, uh…”

He tries to go on, but the words aren’t there.

Poe can’t breathe listening to this conversation, but Finn continues without hesitation. “We don’t know yet. That’s one of the things we’re figuring out.”

“You don’t know?!” Lynia’s anger has returned, but in her eyes, there’s fear. Finn squeezes her hand.

“We’re waiting for more results from the medcenter,” he says, and there isn’t a hint of annoyance or uncertainty in his tone. “There’s a lot of things we’re trying to figure out, but we know how it affects me and they’re giving me some medicine to make things better.”

“You’re going to be okay,” Hera pipes up. She isn’t smiling though; it’s a suggestion and she is seeking confirmation.

Poe draws her closer. “That’s right, sweetheart.”

They’ve both been made liars within a few seconds, but it’s helpless. Neither father knows how, exactly, to promise anything but the best-case scenario.

Temmin cries out softly, burying his face into Finn’s shoulder. Finn holds him there, stroking his mop of black hair. His older sister, in a move that surprises them all, relents her frustrations and wraps her arms around Temmin so that he’s pressed into a three-way hug.

Poe is caught in the moment, of the resilience of his husband and the kindness of his children. He’s almost too distracted to notice Hera looking at him, curious but quiet. She leans her head against his chest, relaxing into the embrace, but she does not cry.

The kids have more questions than Finn and Poe have answers. They want to know when, how, why. At best, they can reassure them that they will know soon, even if there is ambiguity now. 

“We’ll all wait together,” Poe tells them, “and we can’t get too anxious about it either. It’s going to be okay.”

But the news hangs over their heads like a stormcloud. Poe can remember the days during the war when whole squadrons would leave on missions with little to no hope of return. He mourned his friends, even before he understood their fates, whatever they would come to be, but it was the not knowing- the long, restless days and sleepless nights spent wondering- that cemented his paranoia and sorrow. If they returned unharmed, they would celebrate, and if they were killed, then together, the Resistance would weep and lament, and face the next battle with ever more resolution to ensure their fallen comrades didn’t die in vain. Now, ten years after he retired from the fight, the same depression has infiltrated his home.

Finn bears it well. Poe knew how once, in the days of the war. It was essential as breathing to move on from losses and carry on, until he finally broke from the strain.

But when it comes to Finn- Poe has never been able to control the tide of emotions threatening to overwhelm him whenever Finn is in danger. In one of the few times he had ever yelled at his subordinates, a Resistance pilot had steered Finn into a line of First Order TIEs, with Poe stuck on the ground doing mission control. After they landed, alive but in a still-smoking ship, Poe saw red, and the pilot practically wept as she apologized. Finn was fine; he even comforted the pilot and when enough time had passed, he teased Poe relentlessly about his defensiveness.

Now, Finn is as strong as ever, and Poe is breaking already.

Or so it seems. It’s hours later, and Poe is trying to determine if he’s relieved to have been honest with the children or if he’s unforgivably burdened them with this news, when a shadow crosses Finn’s expression, and he leaves the room suddenly. Poe knows well enough to follow, and when Finn retreats to the bedroom, Poe lets the door close behind him. Then, Finn rests his head against Poe’s chest and begins to sob, quiet so only they can hear.

Poe does nothing but wrap his arms around Finn, and whisper meaningless comforts as he cries.

Evening descends over Yavin IV, pink clouds scattered all across the sky over the tops of the trees. Poe discovers that dusk serves him the time he needs to slip away.

Once he is safely outside and alone, relishing the cool air, Poe activates his comm. After a few moments, the holographic image of Kes Dameron appears.

His father has aged well, all silver hair and beard, eyes kind as always and skin tanner than ever. When Poe sees him, the younger man chokes on nothing, a sudden release after a strenuous day, and the wrinkles around Kes’ eyes deepen.

“Poe?” he says **,** as distressed as Poe’s heard him in years. _“Mijo,_ what’s going on?”

Words escape Poe still, until he can settle his breathing enough to meet his father’s gaze and form a coherent sentence. Kes is patient, and when Poe’s hyperventilating subsides, his tone is gentle, each inflection carefully placed.

“Son, are you alright? Tell me what’s happening.”

Poe can’t say it. He hasn’t yet; he’s barely dared to think of his new reality, and all that it could mean for him and his family. Tears fill his eyes when he finally meets Kes’ gaze. “Dad,” he says at last, the strength draining from him rapidly. “ _Pap_ _á_ , Finn is sick.” His voice cracks. “They think it’s bad.”

After Poe’s call, Finn greets him with a silent kiss on the cheek, and coaxes him to relax for the rest of the night. As night falls, and the house enters the same quiet as the dark, Finn and Poe settle into their routine. It’s unusual, then, that a sharp rap interrupts them, Poe looking up from the holo he’s reading and Finn peering towards the door with the same air of suspicion.

But Lynia enters, her typical fiery conviction glinting in her eyes. Leia would have loved her, Poe knows, and this remains true when their daughter starts to speak, sitting down on the edge of their bed, entirely unabashed.

Her chin is stuck in the air, in the same way that Poe has long since come to recognize in both his former beloved general and dear friend Rey. She’s preparing for a fight, and there’s no expressed intent of backing down.

“If Dad is sick, then I don’t want to leave.”

Finn’s eyebrows arch, and even from the intake of his breath, Lynia can tell that his rebuttal will be absolute. Instead, before Finn can speak, she turns to Poe.

“Papa, please. You’ll need me here to help if this gets worse. I’ll stay.”

“You’re already making plans on Onderon,” Finn protests, disregarding the obvious attempt to garner sympathy from his husband.

“And you’re the one who’s told me for years that I had as long as I wanted here! I can move later on, when I’m ready.”

“You’re ready now.” Finn objects, sitting up in bed and meeting her stare with just as much steel in his glare. “I said you could stay until you were ready to figure things out. You will always have a home here, but you shouldn’t stay because of me, Lynia.”

“I want to stay! If things are going to be different now, then I’m going to be here. _Pap_ _á,_ tell him how important it is that I stay.”

Poe opens his mouth and sputters. “Why? Why me?”

“Because you always tell us that you fought your whole life for your family, and I’m going to do the same, just like you.”

Poe huffs out a long breath of air, glancing at Finn in hopes of a rescue, but his husband also waits for his rebuke. Poe sighs, indignant.

“I was fighting a war; it was completely different for me. That was my future, and that’s what I trained for. You, young lady, have a whole life waiting to be lived, away from your fathers.”

“You’re a hypocrite,” she says, and Poe knows well enough not to take offense.

“No, I’ve always been very clear about how you should never follow in my footsteps. It’s too dangerous and I never made enough good decisions anyways.”

Finn cuts back in. “Lynia, I know you want to be here for us. I get it, I know you do. But there’s so much we don’t know yet, and it doesn’t make sense for you to stay here when everyone is still trying to figure things out.”

Her jaw juts out, strictly defiant. “I am willing to negotiate in the morning,” she says, and that’s the end of that. Poe watches her sweep from the room, proud as ever.

Finn’s eyes are worried when their gazes meet, but a chuckle escapes Poe, and Finn smirks in response.

“Just like Leia,” Finn says, and Poe rolls his eyes.

“Good to know her legacy continues on.”

Finn is grinning as he turns off their light. “She’d be happy to see it, you know.”

Poe snuggles down into Finn’s side. “Yeah?”

“Yeah. It’s payback for all the years she had to put up with you.”

Poe’s mouth drops open. “Ouch,” he grumbles, then sighs. “Who does that girl think she is, anyways? _Pap_ _á,_ please. _Pap_ _á,_ tell him this. _Pap_ _á,_ risk your whole marriage by taking a side against Dad in an argument. _Ay Dios._ ” Poe mutters. “Since when am I the one who’s a pushover in this relationship?”

Finn snorts into his shoulder, comfortable and happy. “I hate to tell you this,” he says, “but we both are.”

“Do you know where Rey is?”

Finn sighs in response. “I haven’t heard since her last checkpoint,” he says. “She’s supposed to come back soon. But I don’t know.”

“You wanna comm her?” Poe suggests.

Finn purses his lips. Rey is the only member of their family they haven’t told yet, and it goes without saying that informing her of Finn’s illness is next. Part of Finn wishes he would never have to tell her, for Rey’s smile is one of the most beautiful things in the universe, and he hates to see her unhappy. However, if anyone can draw joy back into their lives, it’s Rey.

Finn nods, then blinks the static out of his eyes as colors fade all around him. A numbness, already familiar, is dominating his senses.

“Are you alright?” Poe says, hurrying across the kitchen and wrapping an arm around his husband. Finn nods, squeezing his eyes shut in an effort to steady himself.

“It’s the meds,” he mutters. “The dizziness has been new ever since I started taking it.”

“Alright,” Poe murmurs. “Do we need to talk to Doctor Pheraa about changing it?”

Finn shakes his head, eyes still pressed shut. “She said the side effects would fade soon. I just have to wait it out.”

Poe is thoroughly unconvinced. “We do what’s best for you. And if this ain’t it, we figure out something else.”

“You don’t have to burn down the whole galaxy for me, Dameron. It’s just some mild side effects”

His husband presses a kiss to his temple, frowning. “Yeah, but I like you without any side effects. Mild or not.”

Finn’s lips quirk up into a grin. “Funnily enough, I liked me better that way too.”

“Mmmhm,” Poe replies, and he’s tantalizingly close. “What were we doing again?”

“Kissing me,” Finn says, and Poe obliges, then laughs. “Comming Rey.”

Poe clears his throat. “Right. That.”

Finn smirks, then sobers rapidly. “Alright. Let’s do this.”

The young Jedi beams up at them when they comm, her reduced image smiling from the cockpit of the _Millennium Falcon._ But when her gaze meets Finn’s, her expression stills then fades immediately.

“What’s wrong?” She says, ever knowing.

So Finn tells her, reaching out for Poe’s hand for comfort, and her face crumples, the edges of her mouth pulling down as her eyes screw up in an attempt to prevent the sudden tears threatening to spill over.

“What’s going to happen next?” Rey asks, and Finn sighs.

“We don’t know. The doctors will tell us when they know, and we’ll move on from there.”

“I wish I could be there with you,” Rey says, and Finn shakes his head.

“I do too. I miss you.”

“I’m about a day away. And then I’m coming straight to Yavin.” Rey attempts a grin, bravely. “I’m bringing BB-8 back, safe and sound.”

A laugh bubbles out of Poe, past the lump solidly lodged in his throat. “Is he there? Can I see my droid?”

Rey echoes his chuckle, and shifts so that the astromech can be seen as BB-8 rolls into frame, beeping happily. Poe coos back gently. “Buddy!”

“We’ll see you soon.” Rey smiles fleetingly. “We’re both excited.”

Poe rests his free hand on Finn’s shoulder as the two talk. When Lynia wanders in, their only child free from school, Rey greets her happily. She hasn’t yet brought up last night’s argument, but tension crackles in the silences left to fester for too long. Today, her sandy curls are down and free about her face, which is unusual but earns Rey’s praise. Poe thinks it makes her look tougher, like some fierce goddess standing on the edge of a battlefield, but that may just be the way she currently embodies the phrase “if looks could kill” throughout this apparent calm before the hurricane of her fury. Either way, Poe swells with pride at her determination, even if it may soon lead to his utter decimation in a brutal verbal debate.

When Lynia does broach the subject, Finn feels like enough time has passed for him to gather his wits the best he can. At the very least, Poe has stopped sneaking him sympathetic glances whenever he thinks Finn isn’t paying attention, and will probably be more prepared to string together a full sentence now to help him rebut Lynia’s arguments.

Their daughter is just as hard-headed and relentless as the night before, but Finn, relishing in the surrealness of his half-diagnosis, reminds her that nothing is as certain as they’d like it to be.

“We’re not making any decisions until we know what the plan is. So, Lynia Dameron, you will keep making plans to leave until there’s an actual reason to do otherwise, understood?”

And although she grumbles, Finn wins this round. Poe stares in amazement when she retreats. “I don’t understand,” he says, eyes wide. “Even after all this time, I still don’t understand teenagers.”

Finn kisses his cheek sweetly. “You can never let them smell your fear,” he says seriously, and Poe cracks up.

_“Kriff,”_ Finn swears, and rolls out of bed onto the floor.

It’s already late, Finn knows, and he scurries out of the room, still in his sleep clothes. Something in the side of his stomach is aching, but after once glance at the chrono, the thought is quickly disregarded. Poe must be gone for the day, given how quiet the house is, but Finn is hours behind already. Although he alternates with his husband on days they go in to work at the adoption center on Yavin IV, neither of them have gotten used to the tranquility that pervades their homestead when one of them works and the kids leave for the academy, so it’s not uncommon for Finn or Poe to work from home whenever possible. And now, Finn is failing to do even that; he had a call with Jannah about finding work for adult troopers outside of the military branches this morning, and he’s missed the scheduled time by far.

“Hi,” he says shortly, when he finally manages to turn on the holo and finger-comb his hair into a semi-presentable state.

“Hi,” Jannah greets, unphased. “Busy?”

Finn huffs, biting his tongue. “Something like that, yeah.”

She chuckles. “Well, I’m glad you’re here now. So I was thinking we could refer them to our employment department, or even expand the branch…”

Finn listens, taking notes on a spare datapad and offering feedback where he can. He’s still there, hunched over painfully at his small desk in their living room, when the door opens to reveal Poe, who crosses the open space to kiss the top of his head. 

“Hey,” he says, offering a brief smile that only flickers in his eyes, “how are you today?”

Annoyance prickles at Finn, but he pushes it down. That’s all anyone asks him nowadays- including his nine-year-old, which is absurd and out of place. “Good,” Finn lies, ignoring the hunger clawing at his stomach and the ache that seems to have spread up into his chest.

Yet Poe refuses to take the answer at face value. “You look terrible,” he remarks instead. “Have you eaten?”

There’s an uncomfortable heat in his cheeks and Finn shakes his head, breaking their eye contact. Poe curses under his breath in Yavinian, but leaves it at that and offers his hand to Finn to help him stand.

When Finn winces as he rises, Poe, ever observant, takes note and continues muttering foul language quietly. “Where does it hurt?” he manages, in between a few of the dirtiest sentences Finn’s ever heard in his life.

“Just my side,” Finn says, voice soft. “It’s alright.”

“No, that’s new,” Poe says. “That’s not what’s expected, either. They didn’t say you’d be in pain.”

“Well, I am,” Finn argues, but he takes the fruit Poe forces into his hands. “Why are you home early anyways?”

Poe stares. “Maybe this is affecting your brain too, huh? _”_ When Finn continues not to remember, Poe goes on. “Rey comes home today, _amor._ ”

Then, a wide smile splits across Finn’s face. “I forgot,” he says in amazement. “Rey comes home today!”

Poe can nearly smile back at him. “Why didn’t you eat? Or tell me you were hurting?”

But Finn’s sudden good mood is impenetrable. “I just forgot,” he deflects, “I woke up late then I was working with Jannah, and then I got busy.”

Poe frowns. “Well, maybe you should finish eating and clean up if you ever want me to leave you alone again.”

Finn rolls his eyes at Poe, stuffing the rest of the food in his mouth and already moving to get changed. “I’d like that, you know!” he calls over his shoulder, and Poe swallows his grin in response.

“When does Aunt Rey get here?” Temmin asks for the third time, peering over Hera’s shoulder out the window.

“Any minute now,” Poe answers for the third time, catching Finn’s eye and failing to hide his grin. “Be patient. It’s not the way of the Jedi to ask your dads the same question over and over again.”

Temmin ignores this comment, much to Poe’s amusement.

“Why don’t you take your sister outside?” Finn suggests reasonably, and wide hazel eyes stare back at him, before Temmin nods and offers his hand to Hera, who takes it gladly and pulls her brother outside to scan the sky for the _Millennium Falcon._

Despite their careful watch, they hear Rey’s approach before the tops of the trees part from the wind of the freighter as it lands in the clearing near their home. The roar of the engine alerts them first, Hera shouts with glee, even evoking a yell of joy from her quietest sibling as the rest of their family joins them outside. And when Rey appears, crossing the short distance through the trees to reach them, Hera sprints into her arms, Rey taking a knee to catch her fully. Temmin isn’t far behind, then she has all of the children wrapped in her arms, and her smile dazzles. Meanwhile, Poe experiences a similar joyous reunion, as a small orange ball hurtles out of the trees and crashes into Poe’s shins, beeping happily all the way.

After she wrangles her way out of the five-way hug, Rey scoops Hera into her arms, carrying her until she reaches Finn. As Hera wiggles back down to the ground, a silent conversation passes between Rey and Finn. But then, in another second, Rey clutches Finn close, eyes pressed shut as she holds her dearest friend in her tight embrace.

Chewie embarks through the trees, distracting the kids yet again. His roar mingles with their overlapping words and laughter, but time has stilled around the two Jedi, who have yet to let go of each other.

Poe isn’t Force-sensitive, but he doesn’t need hyper-awareness to realize the weight in the air. Rey is back, and their family is whole, but Poe can’t shake that this is just the beginning of all that’s to come.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope this fluff will sustain you through the angst. Think of it as the calm before the storm :)  
> Thank you to both of my lovely beta readers.  
> 


	3. III

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> “Always in motion is the future” -Yoda

“How was your day?”

Finn smiles at Rey’s question. In their home, her veneer of an unflinching warrior evaporates in an instant. The Jedi and hero becomes Aunt Rey, who asks the kids about homework and classes and teases them with a cheeky grin and gives them piggyback rides through the trees.

“Good,” says Walton, and he clears his throat suddenly. When Temmin sniggers to himself, and Lynia has to hide a smirk, Rey cocks her head in question.

“Just good?” she prods, and an even louder giggle escapes Temmin.

“Don’t.” Walton warns, trying to silence his little brother with a glare, but Temmin is already toeing the boundary of what he can say, and then the line is crossed without a second thought.

“Walton has a crush on his friend from school!” Temmin blurts, and Poe busies himself to disguise his humor. Instead of laughing, Finn sighs, setting down his fork and affixing Temmin with an exasperated stare.

“Really?” he asks.

“Do you?” Rey says to Walton at the same time, her grin ear to ear.

Walton rolls his eyes, a dark blush flushing his cheeks. “I do. Their name is Amani.”

“Are they cute?” Rey presses, and the teen rolls his eyes again.

“Extremely,” he answers, voice flat, and Rey giggles right along with Hera and Temmin. Chewie gives an approving roar, which is what finally frees the laughter from their son’s restraints. Walton’s eyes sparkle, and Poe forces neutrality back on his face.

It’s blissfully normal, all of them together and laughing and living as they should. It’s the peace they fought for, all those years ago. The sheer joy of it is nearly enough for Poe to forget why Rey had rushed back to Yavin, or why his laughter feels thin even though he’s genuinely happy at that moment.

Finn wakes in the night, coughing. Next to him, doused in moonlight, Poe rises instantly, shooting upright. The blankets slump around them as Poe reaches out, rubbing Finn’s back until the fit passes. His hand comes away wet. Finn is drenched in a thick sweat.

“Finn,” Poe whispers, voice haggard, and his husband heaves, gasping for air.

Labored breaths fill the silence, Finn panting until his lungs stop burning from the depraved lack of oxygen.

“Do we need to comm the medcenter again?” Poe says, wiping off Finn’s brow for him. The other man shakes his head, shifting to see Poe better.

“I’m alright,” he says shortly, breathless.

“Sure,” Poe indulges, pressing a hand against Finn’s forehead. “Because all of us understand what’s going on and you haven’t woken up every night for the last week.”

“Hm.” Finn retorts, pushing himself out of bed. The light to the refresher clicks on, and Poe listens to the water running from the sink as Finn cleans up. He feels the hollow of the bed next to him, and even the sheets are soaked through with perspiration.

Poe exhales slowly, then swings his leg over the edge of the mattress. By the time Finn has freshened up, Poe is nearly done changing the sheets.

“Sorry,” he says quietly, helping Poe spread the blankets back over the bed.

“Hey, don’t worry about it.” Poe’s tone is equally soft. “We’re trying to figure it out.”

“I know,” Finn acknowledges, “I know we are. It’s hard.”

“I know, sweetheart.” Poe takes his hand, and it’s still slick and hot. “Does your arm still hurt?”

Subconsciously, Finn touches his right shoulder. It’s been aching for days with no relent.

“It’s okay,” he says, but Poe raises an eyebrow, dramatically framing his dark eyes. Finn leans in, resting his head against Poe’s shoulder, but his lover has other ideas.

“I’m comming the medcenter,” Poe says abruptly, standing and starting towards the door.

“It’s the middle of the night, Poe!” Finn calls after him, and he stops. “And I’m seeing Pheraa again in two days.”

A frown sets deeply in Poe’s features, but he heads back to Finn, dropping to his knees before his husband. His lips press against Finn’s bare knee, and it tastes of the salt from his sweat.

“Fine,” he says. “I’ll comm in the morning.”

As it would so happen, the Yavinian medcenter does not appreciate excessive calls to them made daily and religiously, but Poe tries anyways. Despite their claims that they know nothing and continue to know nothing, the couple badgers the team of doctors promising them answers, all amid regular consultations and test after test.

Finn frequents the medcenter, so much so that driving there slips into his routine. He jokes with Poe that he has a parking spot reserved just for him, in the shade of a tall tree and the perfect distance from the entrance of the building.

What Finn fails to mention, even to his most beloved, that as time passes, the spot moves closer and closer to the door. On the sunniest days, when the jungle is insufferably humid, Finn steps from the speeder and his head spins, heartbeat pounding in his ears until it blocks out every other sense and sound. The less time that he spends outdoors, the better.

It’s fine. The dizziness, the soreness, all of it. Finn fights for control with his own body, grabbing the nearest wall or counter for support until the dazed spells pass. Most of the time, he’s the only one who notices, although if he’s not careful, he’ll catch Poe watching him, hovering nearby to subtly monitor Finn’s every move.

He takes this with a sour mood and a fair amount of cheek, but Poe refuses to relent. Not only that, but BB-8 gets set on him too. Between the droid’s scans, Poe’s smothering, and Rey, who also has slipped into the habit of looking at Finn just a moment too long and with just a touch of too much concern, Finn feels as if he’s being treated like the most fragile being in the galaxy.

All the while, the increasingly large team of doctors behaves as if Finn is the most fascinating specimen they’ve seen in a century. Not only does he endure endless surveys and physical testing, but they also seem determined to analyze every fluid and tissue sample they can possibly squeeze out of him.

“That vein is the best,” Finn tells the meddroid, pointing to the inner corner of his right elbow. Doctors apparently prefer patients with the fattest veins and the least tendency to complain. This also means that Finn is quick to identify and remember which of his veins is the clearest and best to use to draw blood.

Temmin is with him then, on the way to a flying lesson with his father. He flinches and looks away as the needle enters Finn’s flesh, but Finn simply grips his hand to comfort him, and watches as the blood flows out of him, hot and thick through the tube and into the vial.

“I had to pee in a cup,” Finn groans softly to Poe, burying his face in the other man’s neck. “It was absolutely disgusting.”

Poe wraps his arms around his lover, resting his chin on his shoulder. “I’m very sorry dear,” he says, but Finn isn’t entirely done with his complaint. Even quieter than before, he details the invasive extent of the other tests done.

“Really?” He says, face wrinkled in disgust. “Even your-”

Finn punches Poe’s shoulder gently, still locked in their embrace. “They wanted to make sure I didn’t have any bleeding.”

“ _Ay,”_ Poe says, sighing and rocking Finn slightly in their hug. Silently, Finn agrees with the sentiment.

“Astri, hi,” Poe says, mouth pulled easily upwards as he beams at the holographic figure.

Dr. Astri Derlin peers back at him. The Pantoran, with deep blue skin and shining purple hair, smiles slightly as she looks over the top of her spectacles. She knows their family well, having served in the Resistance with both parents. She has graduated from her status as a wartime doctor to her current position as an immunology microbiologist in the Outer Rim, and now, they rely on her medical expertise.

“Let’s see what I can do to help” she begins, shifting the datapad in her hands. “Finn, can you describe any of your symptoms please?”

So Finn launches into an explanation of all the miserable facets of his health, failing and normal and unexplainable by any doctor on their moon. Astri listens intently, taking notes as he talks, and the idyllic happiness that so often paints her face gradually slips into a hard set frown.

“Okay…” she says deliberately, once Finn has spent approximately ten minutes elaborating on how he feels day-to-day. She lists off several diseases, most of which are vaguely familiar to them, enough so that Finn can confirm he’s tested negative for each one. Her lips are pursed by the end, having gone through the comprehensive extent of her immediate medical knowledge. Astri huffs in frustration, and Finn barely resists the urge to do the same. 

Her eyes soften during the lull in the conversation. “I can tell you how a lot of the things that are happening to you. Your blood oxygen levels, your hematocrit. But I can’t tell you why.” The lines in her forehead deepen in thought. “Has anyone explained your symptoms to you?”

“In loose terms,” Poe answers, glancing between Astri and Finn, whose hand is tightly gripped in his husband’s. “They haven’t exactly been generous with their information.”

The doctor laughs, sparkling and bright. “Still warring with medical professionals, I see?”

“Yes, yes he is,” Finn asserts instantly. “He really has been.” There’s a pause as all three adults recall Poe’s tendency during the war to not only get severely injured flying Black One, but his habit of avoiding the medbay after any incidents occurred.

Poe groans in frustration and Astri laughs again, Finn joining her. After they make their goodbyes, promising to keep each other updated and talk soon, Poe turns to his lover. The black of his eyes glimmers, warm and overflowing with care. His mouth opens, as if there’s something to say, but no words come out.

Finn kisses him instead, slow and sweet. For all the uncertainty ahead of them, Poe is glad that, at the very least, he has Finn beside him through it all.

“They want my family’s medical history.” Finn mutters angrily, striding so fast that the automated door to the exit barely slides open in time. Poe jogs behind him, keeping up so that he can hear Finn’s next words. “Some of us didn’t get that lucky.”

“I know, Finn, I know,” Poe tries, attempting to catch Finn’s gaze as he stalks towards their speeder.

Finn spins on his heel suddenly, turning to face Poe with his hands on his hips. “I’m going to lose my mind,” he warns, nodding towards the medcenter. “I need answers or I’ll lose my mind.”

“I fully endorse that,” Poe mollifies, resting his hand against Finn’s chest, attempting to calm him. “Maybe you should take a deep breath first though.”

Finn exhales. “Says you.”

“Ha,” Poe says dryly. “I know.”

Finn’s mouth puckers as if he tastes something sour and unpleasant. “I need to know what’s going on.” He glances at the offending building again. “And I could do without them ignoring my history of being stolen from my parents as an infant.” He sighs again, rolling his eyes. “You can understand that, right?”

His partner nods, rubbing Finn’s side comfortingly. “I do,” he says, and Finn shakes his head before pressing a chaste kiss against Poe’s cheek and clambering into the speeder to go home.

* * *

The former stormtrooper has been broken and remade time and time again. After his capture, after his escape, after his spine was torn in two, after he confessed his love for Poe, after the war ended, after he became a Jedi, and after he and Poe finally started their family together.

Being a veteran and being a father has taught Finn how to be strong. He knows when to take a deep breath and continue on unflinchingly, when to mourn losses in the private silence of the night, when to square his shoulders and march forward despite his fears. He’s learned how to vanquish any doubts or worries so those dependent on him would never even realize the option of failure, how to brush aside his concerns and severest doubts in himself or his circumstances in favor of reassuring those around him, and to do so without hesitation or question.

Being a husband, an equal in a marriage formed on trust and partnership and unconditional love, has taught Finn when to break. He knows when to vent and complain and to cry. He’s learned when to listen and when to make a stand, when to encourage a risk or talk Poe down.

In the secrecy of their bedroom, in the haven away from children and facades, titles and responsibilities, Finn allows himself to break. In their bed, and in Poe’s arms, he’s fractured into pieces many times, then healed in his lover’s embrace. When their sleep was ravaged by nightmares, insomnia, and devout phantoms from the past, the couple retreated to their room to fall apart, until they weathered the storm and the ocean of their troubles subsided to gentle lapping at the shore rather than a hurricane beating at their door.

It’s been a long day, one among many others just as wearing. Finn is tired. He is always tired, but Poe watches him and knows that his exhaustion has begun to stem from anger and stress over his condition just as much as he suffers physically from it.

But then, quiet resumes with the night, and Finn and Poe escape to the safety and the peace of their room once more, even after a day filled with impatient, insolent medical droids and unanswerable questions about parents and a home Finn never knew.

Finn sighs heavily, interrupting the silence, and although he offers Poe a half-smile, it doesn’t reach his eyes, which are suddenly watering with tears. Poe sits down next to him on their bed, clutching Finn’s hand close to his chest, and Finn relaxes into his husband, leaning his head against his shoulder.

“I’m here for you,” Poe murmurs, brushing his lips against Finn’s forehead, and Finn bristles.

“That’s exactly it,” Finn says, tone angry and full of the conviction that got him appointed a general in a galactic war. “You didn’t sign up for this.”

Poe turns Finn’s face towards him, gently cupping his jaw so that their gazes meet. “I thought I did,” he says softly, and he closes the gap between them. “I Poe,” he kisses Finn again, slow and tantalizing “take you, Finn...”

This time, the kiss is long, and Finn shifts towards him, opening to the connection. His hands travel to Poe’s hair, pulling their bodies together.

“...in sickness,” Poe continues when they separate, still punctuating his next words with another kiss, “and in health.” He stops to maintain a fierce stare. “I meant it, Finn. I know you did too. I absolutely signed up for this. I’m here for you and I’m not going anywhere.”

Finn nods numbly, dropping his head against Poe’s shoulder again.

“We’ll get through this,” Poe says, embracing Finn. “Even if we didn’t sign up for this specifically.”

Finn snorts into his jacket, and although his tone is dry, Poe knows that his mood has been improved. “I certainly didn’t.” He mutters, and Poe chuckles softly, bringing the other man closer still.

Finn notices that, as Rey’s stay on Yavin continues, and his appointments at the medcenter drag on, the progression of Lynia’s packing list and plans for Onderon slow even as they near completion. He’s not stupid, despite any secret thoughts his teenagers harbor, and he observes with alacrity how his family seems to be holding their breaths, waiting for news of any kind to break the illusion of this new normal hanging over their lives.

Even so, Hera rejoices in having Rey so near. The Jedi had set up a small homestead a few klicks away from Finn and Poe when they settled on Yavin IV after the war, but it’s close enough that she spends almost every day with them, or that one of their children persuades Lynia or Walton to drive them over to their aunt’s. There, she stays with Chewie, and whenever one of the kids or locals ask what the galaxy’s greatest savior is doing on their forest moon instead of training the next generation of Jedi, Rey only smiles widely and preaches about the need for inner peace achieved through a sabbatical until the offending party tunes her out and leaves her to her own devices once more.

Their youngest is perhaps the only one left in Finn’s immediate circle yet to realize the gravity of the unknowns controlling everyone else’s thoughts. Finn relishes her innocence. With the rest of his family, there’s almost a double act at play, where he has to make up for any imminent despair with overzealous joy and distractions, all while maintaining the appropriate amount of seriousness about the situation.

Finn can deal with this. Morning comes, and he meditates with Rey before her daily hike through the jungle. He reminds Lynia to add a few more things to her list of possessions to take to Onderon with her, and talks with Temmin about a new path the boys have discovered in the woods recently. These tasks are enough of a diversion for them all, so much so that a few hours after waking, Finn hardly even notices the buzzing in his ears, despite the noise being a new presence in his daily life as of today.

Poe takes it all in stride, glowing at his husband’s resilience and humor through it all. They steal a private moment before lunch, and although Poe can’t help but comment on Finn’s pallor and the bags circling his undereyes, the pilot rewards him with a kiss. His hands encircle his waist, lingering on his hips, and Poe dutifully instructs him to look after their son while he ensures their daughters behave indoors, each tasked with their own sets of responsibilities.

And so the day passes into afternoon. Finn walks with their sons outside, letting Temmin show him his favorite parts of the forest on their new trail. Meanwhile, Hera and Lynia have retreated to their corners of the house, preoccupied with a new holo and a long-distance comm, respectively, while Poe tries to manage the messes of four children and a busy life.

It was like with Shara Bey, he’ll realize later. All the signs were there- but he never saw it coming. 

Poe is putting away dishes, alone in the kitchen, when the tranquility of the day suddenly erupts into chaos.

Poe’s head turns towards the door, unsure of the faint sounds from outside. Then Temmin shouts again, louder. What he hears next is enough; he drops the plate he’s holding, and it shatters on the floor thoughtlessly. The father hardly notices.

“Papa! Papa, come here now!”

“Temmin!” Poe yells, and he’s running out of the house. His hand travels automatically to his hip, but his blaster isn’t there- finally, after all the years of peace, Poe had granted himself the courage to not strap on his holster every day. The pilot almost doubles back to grab the weapon, but he can hear the calm as he moves- there’s no rush of a TIE soaring overhead, nor the pinging of firebolts through the trees- so why is his son shouting for help?

“ _Pap_ _á_ _,”_ Walton sobs as Poe crashes into view. His eldest son is clutching Finn, who’s unceremoniously slumped on the ground. Finn’s head is in Walton’s lap, but Finn’s eyes are closed, his skin terribly grey and sallow. There’s barely time to process his children, crowded around their father, for his instincts instantly take over upon seeing Finn.

“What? What happened to him?” Poe demands, rushing forward. Finn remains limp when Poe shakes him, head lolling uselessly. After muttering a quick curse under his breath, Poe checks for his husband’s pulse.

It’s there, barely. Despite himself, Poe gasps a small sigh of relief. The rise and fall of Finn’s chest is hardly apparent. In all his worry, Poe is not overly comforted by this fact.

“He just collapsed,” Temmin says, and his face is as pale as Poe’s ever seen it. “Dad started stumbling and then he just-”

“Alright,” Poe murmurs, reaching out to comfort his son. He checks Finn’s pulse again, just to be sure. “He needs- I-” Poe swallows, hard. “I’m going to take him to the medcenter. I need you to help me, alright? Let’s carry him to the speeder. Grab under his arms and lift.”

They move as one, stumbling across the forest to the speeder. They awkwardly load Finn in; he’s still boneless and heavy. Poe feels as if he’s waiting for Finn to wake, as if his beloved will sputter abruptly and open his eyes, but his hopes are to no avail, and Poe realizes with absolute certainty that he will have to face this reality in totality, and truly make the emergency visit by himself.

Lynia and Hera join them outside, drawn by the commotion. “Papa? What’s going on?” Lynia asks, cradling Hera close to her.

“I’m taking Finn to the medcenter,” Poe answers hurriedly, walking around the speeder to embrace his daughter. “You stay here and you watch your siblings, okay?” He hugs each of his kids, bringing all four of them into his arms at once.

“It’s going to be okay,” Poe reassures, attempting an empty smile. “I’ll comm you as soon as there’s news.”

“Let me go with you,” Walton says, his voice clogged with tears. 

But Poe is already shaking his head. “You need to stay here,” he instructs. “Look after your siblings, and I’ll keep you updated.”

Walton’s jaw clenches, and Poe braces himself for his retort. Maybe he shouldn’t go alone- logically, he knows he shouldn’t. But, Poe thinks. But he can’t. He remembers his father, and how the medical services had shown up so quickly on that day- how Kes had shouted for Poe to let them in and then _stay away-_

His father had known right away that Shara was gone. When she went, it was fast, unexpected, absolute. Above all else, he had tried to keep Poe happily ignorant, aside from the sight of his mother’s slumped form and the sounds of his father’s breathy sobs. He had tried to protect Poe until the reality was undeniable and inescapable and confirmed indisputably by a time of death and a black body bag carted through the front door of their home.

 _Kriff,_ Poe thinks again, and the engine roars to life. He will try to do the same now. His children know war and death and the terrors that ravaged the entire galaxy. While he doesn’t understand _why in the universe_ his husband won’t wake up or why he even collapsed in the first place, Poe will spare them from seeing their dad at his worst, from whatever truths wait at the medcenter or on the journey there.

When he leaves, gunning the speeder as fast as it can go, one hand on the controls and the other clutched around Finn’s wrist, he doesn’t look back.

* * *

Finn opens his eyes, and Poe is there. The rings of red and the deep purple bags underlining them emphasize just how bloodshot the whites of his eyes are.

“Finn,” Poe croaks, and he squeezes Finn’s hand firmly. 

“I’m okay,” Finn says automatically, even though the words are strained and painful. Poe knows Finn well enough not to accept the flimsy lie, but he chokes out a hollow laugh at the sheer ridiculousness of the statement, and Finn thinks he’s relieved. He must be, because Poe’s hands are shaking as he cups Finn’s face and presses a kiss to his lips. It’s chaste and messy, and Poe’s breath smells like weak, cheap caf. 

Finn doesn’t know how long he’s been here in the comfort of a medcenter, but everything is pristine and perfect, and he remembers the world going fuzzy, then dark. It must have been quite a few hours since then, for Poe to look this tired and disheveled, nearly as if he’d been standing behind an x-wing as it took off into the atmosphere.

“You look handsome,” Finn mutters, and Poe snorts. When Poe speaks again, his voice is thick and wet with emotion.

“I was worried about you, _tonto,_ ” Poe says, and there’s pain visible on Finn’s face when he chuckles in response. Poe winces.

“It’s alright,” Finn whispers, but the grip on his hand only tightens.

“Okay.” A smile flickers across Poe’s features in an attempt at reassurance. “Do you remember what happened?”

Finn shakes his head slowly, still trying to dissipate the haze dominating his thoughts. His brow wrinkles, and Poe, who knows him better than anyone else in the galaxy, can tell that his lover isn’t all there, that the confusion still reigns in Finn’s mind.

“It’s alright,” Poe says quietly, and his thumb runs over the back of Finn’s hand. The latter watches his motion as it repeats, as the world gradually returns to focus and both the sleepiness and the uncertainty disappear.

“I was in the garden,” he starts, head turned towards Poe. “With Temmin and Walton.”

Poe fills in the gaps that Finn can’t remember, patient and measured. Unfortunately, when the story is stitched together, both men arrive at the same terrible conclusion.

“They still don’t know?!” Finn hisses through his teeth, fire searing through any remaining mental fog. “How can they not know?”

“I have no idea,” his husband answers grimly. “They kept you under for the last hour just to do about a hundred more tests. But if they don’t find out soon, I might have to give them a piece of my mind.”

“Get in line.”

“I will,” Poe says seriously, and Finn’s heart soars at the clear passion of his husband’s defensiveness.

When the door finally slides open, far too long after Poe summons the doctors to alert them of Finn’s return to consciousness, Poe stands quickly, mouth open and finger already pointed accusingly at the newcomer.

“Pheraa-” he starts, but the meddroid only looks at him blankly. “Where’s Doctor Pheraa?”

“The doctor is busy with other patients,” the droid answers shortly, rolling forwards to Finn’s bedside. “She will return to you when she is available.”

“Well, do you have news? Or results, or anything?”

“I am not authorized to tell you.” The droid says without turning back to look at the pilot. It’s taking Finn’s vitals, like it has fifty other times without acquiescing to any of Poe’s requests for information. 

“Listen, pal, I don’t have time for this. I’ve been here for hours. We both know this, and we both know that I’m not leaving here until we know what’s wrong with Finn. So why don’t you go find your doctor, and we can get some news, huh?”

The droid whirs as it reads Finn’s temperature. The patient raises an eyebrow at Poe, who shrugs carelessly.

“I am not authorized to tell you any new information,” it repeats, and Poe’s strangled groan nears a scream in volume.

“But do you know something? Anything?!”

“I am not authorized-”

“I know!” Poe exclaims, throwing his hands into the air. “I know. But this is new, right? You saying you can’t tell me anything new? Before it was just that you couldn’t comment. So they know something? There’s news?”

Nothing. The door opens again, and the meddroid pauses on its way out. Something in Poe’s glare flashes and the moment lingers but passes in silence, resentment tangled in the air between the two before the droid clicks in disapproval and leaves the room.

“Some nerve.” Poe comments, biting hard on his bottom lip, and Finn laughs. It still sounds wracked with pain, but his words flow with more grace.

“Is that what you’ve been doing this whole time? Fighting the medical staff?”

Poe huffs, but concedes. “That, and comming the kids.” His smile is brief and sad. “You gave them a good scare.”

“I can’t believe they saw me,” Finn murmurs, settling roughly on his pillows. In an instant, Poe is crouched by his side again, weaving their fingers together.

“It’s nothing you could control.”

But Finn’s brown eyes fill with concern. “I don’t want them to see me like this.”

"I know." A beat, as both men gather their thoughts. "It'll pass and they'll be okay."

"It had better."

When Pheraa comes, she offers her usual placid smile and a firm, fleeting handshake. Finn looks at her, observing how she focuses on her datapad more than she meets either one of their gazes, and he knows. 

A calm settles over him, even as Poe shoots him a nervous glance.

"Well, you gave us quite a scare," she states, rubbing her palms on her coat. "But we were at last able to do the testing we needed to determine your condition.

"This won't be easy to hear," the doctor continues. "But."

She describes a disease, with a name three words long, all of which Poe nor Finn have ever heard before. It's a degenerative condition; it works fast. It starts with your blood and it spreads like wildfire. It's likely that a genetic condition made Finn susceptible to it, but without a comprehensive family history, it's impossible to know for sure. Another contributing factor must be previous exposure to a virus from an Outer Rim planet, and Finn contracted it trying to track down families that with children stolen from them by the First Order. The illness weakened Finn’s immune system, and then the condition took hold but lay dormant, waiting for the right culmination of factors to reveal its worst effects. The disease is relatively rare, but the medcenter’s conclusions are comprehensive and nearly absolute.

They can only look at previous cases for treatment options. They don't have enough information.

And finally, finally, she says it.

“There are no known cures, but we can offer some treatment to delay the effects. I’m very sorry.”

“So that means…?” 

Finn does not ask, because he knows the answer. Poe does, because the reply is impossible and therefore the words will never be said.

Pheraa looks at Finn, at his hand clenched in Poe’s. With calculated, precise sympathy, she says “the sickness will likely prove fatal in some months. I am sorry.”

And the universe crumbles.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A fun fact about this chapter is that I wrote the back half of it in the hopes that doing so would inspire me to come up with a tangible plot for the first part. So that was fun, and I’m worsening my personal trend of doing none of this in the right order.  
> Aside from that, I wanted this to have an element of medical realism to it. I tried very hard to convey the details that a) made this chapter all the more painful and b) were clearly recognizable to anyone unfortunate enough to grapple with their health. It’s very personal in that respect, but this is one of the driving factors behind me writing this story.


	4. IV

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> “I am a Jedi. I’m one with the Force, and the Force will guide me.” -Ganodi

The medcenter isn’t quiet at night. Poe knows this, having spent more than his fair share of time in the medbay on nearly every Resistance base in existence. But here on Yavin is worse, where the doctors aren’t spread so thin and can make their bothersome hourly check-ins without fail.

Finn grumbles at them unhappily each time they do. Pain and worry ensure that his sleep is turbulent enough already, and each time the door opens, light from the hallway floods the room, disturbing his rest further.

They’re keeping Finn overnight, just in case. Poe makes his peace with this rather quickly. He doesn’t think he can handle letting Finn out of the sight of medical professionals nor does he think he can face his children tonight. Although the fathers had briefly discussed the option of Poe returning home to be with the kids, the grief plainly splashed across Poe’s features had eliminated the idea almost immediately. So instead, they had commed Rey, then Finn spoke to their kids, a reassuring smile plastered on his face, and told them that Rey and Chewie would spend the night at the Dameron homestead with them. With unfailing patience, Finn explained that they would be home tomorrow and that he was feeling better already.

They avoided specific questions tactfully. Luckily, seeing Finn’s face bright and deceptively happy seemed to be enough information to tide them over for the time being.

So the couple curled up in bed together as the planet outside their window grew dark and Finn struggled to stay awake with each passing minute. Despite that a nurse had offered Poe a cot to sleep on, he decided to cram into the hospital bed with his husband. It’s no smaller than the bunks they had during the war, when they first got together and spent every night together, even at the menial cost of the room needed to move even a fraction of an inch.

It doesn’t take long for Finn’s breath to even out, despite the gentle beeping of the monitors surrounding them and the ever-pervasive light escaping through the transparisteel of the door. Poe watches him as he falls asleep, the steady rise and fall of his chest gradually slowing. Dark circles have formed under his eyes, but in sleep, he seems peaceful, eyelashes pressed against his face and his expression finally relaxed.

Poe thinks back on the whole of the day. He and Finn have both cried already, draining them of both tears and strength. Pheraa left them alone after her damning news, and Poe had sunk down next to Finn, his face screwed up in pain as he tried to prevent sobs from escaping him. His breath was ragged, heaving, then Finn’s arms had wrapped around him, burying Poe’s face in Finn’s shoulder. 

He had soaked Finn’s flimsy hospital gown with tears and mucus, feeling Finn’s own hot tears drip down into Poe’s hair. He wasn’t sure who had comforted who, but Finn took the news better than he had expected. For Poe, it was all too surreal.

“I knew it was bad, Poe,” Finn had confessed quietly as the sun set over their moon. It looked like it had hurt him to say it. He swallowed, and Poe wasn’t able to look at him as his eyes welled. “I knew it would be something bad.”

Poe shudders now, moving closer to Finn. Pheraa had promised experimental treatments, trials meant to delay the prognosis. She had introduced team after team of doctors, each with an expertise covering every facet of Finn’s disease. Although the doctors said they were planning, already developing ideas to do all that they could for Finn, their endless promises hardly broke through the ice surrounding both men’s hearts.

Finn had kept his head up throughout the day. He smiled as he met each new doctor, grinned ear to ear talking with the kids and Rey. Poe felt stiff, robotic as he tried to mimic the same outlook, but he also didn’t miss how the light drained from Finn the moment he thought nobody else was watching him.

Poe had watched his father become crippled by grief, seen countless families torn apart by death and devastation. 

He thought that after the war, it would all be over. No more losses.

But Kes and Poe had been wrong about Shara and he had been wrong about Finn, too.

He hadn’t known. Even if Finn seemed to have an inkling, even if he was halfway on the way to acceptance by now, Poe had been blindsided by the diagnosis. 

The thought overwhelms him now. There was no way to prepare- to go from a peaceful marriage with four kids to-

His throat constricts, and without his bidding, the words slip out in a choked whisper. “Finn,” Poe sobs. “Promise you’ll never leave me.”

The other man stirs, and Poe realizes he’s awake when Finn takes his hand and grips it solidly against his chest. With his eyes still closed, he breathes out, “I’ll never leave you,” and shifts closer to his husband.

Poe hopes to everything he’s ever known that this will stay true.

They let Finn go in the morning. He only has his clothes from yesterday, but Poe gives him his jacket to prevent any chill during the speeder ride home. Finn animates at this, but rolls his eyes when Poe guides him into the speeder carefully, an arm wrapped around his frame. They’re under strict instructions to notify the medcenter of any changes in Finn’s condition, even with the pledges of new medication starting soon, but Poe will do his best to ensure that Finn’s returning health only progresses from here.

Poe can live with coddling the idea of Finn, though. He’ll improve from this episode in time, Pheraa tells them. Finn shouldn’t collapse again; they’ve stabilized things enough to only worry about his overarching condition.

She smiles when she says it, as if they should find solace in this fact. Finn is woozy every time he stands.

When they tell Rey, Finn agrees to say the words because they can’t fight past the lump in Poe’s throat. He doesn’t let go of his husband’s hand after he helps Finn out of the speeder.

The three of them meet on the small porch of the men’s home. Rey doesn’t have to ask if something’s wrong; she’s known since they commed yesterday, and the Force around the two men swirls in a fury and howls in grief.

Finn explains the disease, and the harsh sentence proclaimed for him. They can find a second opinion, maybe off-world, and they don’t know a cure but they will discover one if they have to.

There is so much hope in his words.

Rey pulls Finn into a hug, as she is so prone to do, but this time, it is tight and long and Poe, watching, thinks it will go on forever, until Rey reaches out, grabbing his hand and wrapping him in the shared embrace. She cries; this time, neither husband does, but weariness has already made its home deep in Poe’s bones. It feels as if the gravity of a thousand worlds is wearing him into the ground. 

When they tell the children, it is calmer but just as dreadful as it had been weeks before. They’re all together, Hera in Rey’s lap, Finn on the center of the sofa with the rest of the family around him. It’s not until they explain it together, gauging the kids’ reactions the whole time, that the sorrow erupts like a volcano. They don’t spell it out; the word _terminal_ hovers in the air but never lands. What they do say is enough. Those three words. That it’ll be hard. Months of treatment. Things will change. Dad will be weaker and not exactly the same. That Papa and Dad love them; that they’re still a family and strong enough to get through anything.

Poe doesn’t know what he believes, declaring all of this. He keeps exchanging weary glances with both Finn and Rey as they try to lessen the tide of tears threatening to overwhelm them all.

Lynia’s eyes glisten but she doesn’t cry. Nor does Hera, who follows the example of her big sister and her aunt, the latter of which keeps her in a protective embrace and never ceases her tight hold on the youngest Dameron.

Walton sees through them. He always has, smart as a whip and twice as fast. Between Finn and Rey, they had joked about his possession of Jedi-like abilities, but the truth was simply that his compassion allowed him the clearest perception out of any of their kids. That’s why he weeps, and why Temmin hyperventilates when he sees it.

“I know it’s scary but we have a plan,” Poe says, pushing past the fear gnawing at his stomach, and offering both his sons tissues. Walton leans into his side, sniffling, and hugs his brother close to him.

They grieve. The family allows Temmin some tea and alone time. Finn smiles sadly and strokes Walton’s hair, hugging his near-adult son as he sobs.

Finn’s eyes are drooping by early afternoon. Poe pulls him off the couch and brings him to the bedroom, back to the familiarity of their personal haven. It relaxes them both to be enveloped in the comfort of their room again, having their worn and soft blankets rather than the pristine, crisp sheets provided by the medcenter last night. The smell of fresh air and the richness of the jungle permeates the room, and Finn relishes in this solace almost more than anything else.

He’s still sore, so Poe’s kisses are careful, lightly pressed against his shoulder as he helps his husband change. When Finn is settled, Poe tucks the covers around him, bringing his lover an extra blanket and asking if he’s comfortable twice.

Finn nods, then kisses the back of Poe’s hand before the tension leaves him, and he falls into rest.

Their youngest son retreats into himself. Poe finds him tucked into his and Walton’s shared bedroom, face shoved into his pillow and hands fidgeting with an Ooriffi mediation toy. Poe sits at the end of his bed, keeping his distance, and Temmin looks back at him.

“How do I help, buddy?” Poe asks, tone gentle. “Do you have any questions I can answer?”

Temmin breaks their brief eye contact, ducking his head. His father suppresses a sigh, fighting back his sorrows.

“Do you just need to be alone?”

A shake of the head. Poe nods, and falls silent.

The quiet lingers, and Poe reminds himself to settle his breathing. His eyes flutter shut as he does, and after a few moments, Temmin speaks.

“What’s going to happen next?”

 _Kriff._ As if Poe could put an answer into words. His immediate plan is to drink a beer and cry on the back deck, but it hadn’t taken him four kids to figure out that telling them as much would be a bad idea.

“Dad’s gonna need a lot of help to get better,” Poe says, a jolt of shock traveling through him as he finishes, realizing that “getting better” would be a generous term if defined by Dr. Pherra. His voice catches as he speaks, but Poe clears his throat quickly. “First, they’re going to target his infected cells, then go from there with treatments for anything else that’s left.”

“And he’s gonna spend a lot more time at the medcenter?”

Poe nods. “Weekly sessions of treatment to start, plus a few checkups.”

“How often will you guys be home?” Temmin’s voice is small, choked with tears. Poe reaches out to him, testing if his son is okay with the contact. When Temmin doesn’t pull away, Poe rests his hand on his shoulder.

“Every single day, son,” Poe promises. “Things will be different, but we’ll still be here.”

Temmin only watches his father, waiting with wide eyes. Extending far into his memory, Poe tries to muster any more words of encouragement, then exhales and smiles softly.

“The first time I ever met your dad, I thought I lost him twice. When we met on the Star Destroyer, and I crashed the TIE we escaped in… I thought, ‘no way is he still alive.’ Then I looked around on the base on D’Qar, and there Dad was. And then he came back from Starkiller with a huge gash down his whole back.”

Poe stills, thinking about it, but Temmin is enraptured, sitting up in bed and inching closer to Poe. The pilot wraps an arm around his son and continues.

“You know how massive his scar is. I saw it in person and…” Poe exhales slowly, “not many people survive a showdown with a Sith lord. But Dad did. And he made it through a galactic war, which is pretty impressive.”

He draws Temmin closer to him. “I was scared all of those times. And I’m scared now too. But your dad has no doubts. I think he’s a little nervous, but he knows he’s strong.”

The two men sit in silence, until Temmin wiggles his way out of Poe’s embrace, promising he’s fine and quietly thanking Poe for their talk. Poe accepts it gladly, hugging his son one last time, and resolves to locate the rest of his kids.

Hera is placated with Poe’s cooking, as he makes _rellenitos_ to mollify both her sweet tooth and the anxiety steadily invading the house. At dinner, the father deals with his happily chattering daughter, trying to focus on her rather than Temmin and Lynia, who glower at him with red-rimmed eyes. However, his efforts aren’t completely enough, for Finn sleeps through the meal and the stilting gaps in conversation only emphasize the loss of presence at the table.

Rey and Chewie had headed home earlier in the day, after Poe ushered them out the door with assurances that he’d be fine on his own. Yet, the fact that Chewie had drawn him into a one-armed hug, and that Rey had left a burning kiss on his cheek probably indicated that he looked as tired and thin as he felt. But he needed this, to be there for his family, and to let them take in the news on their own. Even if he’s grateful for their support, he’s more than capable of facing this by himself.

Finn rises to tuck Hera into bed and to check that Temmin falls asleep with ease. With dusk long passed, the elder members of the family come together, and their views come to the light. 

“How bad is it, really?” Walton asks quietly, glancing between his fathers and sister. Finn and Poe exchange a look of their own. “You know, without the abridged version for a nine-year-old.”

Poe still finds himself at a loss for words. Pheraa had used the word “fatal” with such absolute certainty, yet she had spent more time describing treatment options than she had worrying about what was happening to Finn.

“It’s a developing situation,” Poe says gingerly, unable to meet his son’s gaze.

“But are the doctors optimistic? Like,” Walton swallows, eyes shifting back to Lynia. “You’re gonna be fine, right Dad?”

“There’s still a lot we don’t know,” Finn supplies instead of a real answer, and Walton huffs in anger, Lynia tossing her bushy curls behind her head in annoyance.

“We deserve to know what you do know,” she says, jaw firmly set. The green of her irises spark with a familiar temper, and the tightness in Poe’s chest expands.

“We told you Dr. Pheraa said they don’t know any existing cures,” Finn says, watching the children carefully. His tone is steady and deliberate. “We’re just trying to figure out a treatment that works for me.”

“So…” Lynia’s brow furrows. “So that means…”

Realization spreads across her face slowly, like a tide of painful awareness expanding across her features. Beside her, Walton buries his face in his hands, and Lynia gives a small cry as Finn’s words sink in.

He moves to embrace her, and she allows it. “I’m going to fight as hard as I can,” he whispers into her hair, and she nods against his chest, hiccupping sobs muffled by his shirt. Even with their oldest fully grown, Finn can still bring both of them into his arms. Poe doesn’t miss the wetness in Finn’s eyes, and he presses a kiss against his husband’s temple.

Logically, Poe understands what Pheraa told them. The implications of the diagnosis and the fallacies in their assurances of treatment. He knows. He does. But he’s a soldier, and what the doctors had described wasn’t an absolute. It was a battle strategy, and Poe knows how to fight.

_“Abuelo!”_ Hera shouts, and although Kes winces at the volume of her words, a grin splits his face as he lifts his granddaughter into his arms.

“How’s the best pilot in the whole galaxy?” He asks, and when Hera smiles, her missing front teeth claim center stage. “Are you taking care of everyone?”

The youngest Dameron nods, detailing the events of her life since the last time they’ve talked. When they reach the rest of the family, Hera worms out of his grip, and Kes embraces Finn, hugging his son-in-law for a long moment before greeting the rest of his family.

He claps Poe on the shoulder, and a grimace flickers across Poe’s features before it fades. Kes hardly acknowledges this, but even having his father close again is comforting.

Kes’ presence breathes life back into their home. In addition to Poe’s father, Chewie and Rey join them for the afternoon once more. The kitchen is crowded, but when Poe had helped plan his home, he planned for many guests. Nine people is almost nothing compared to the legions their house is designed to accommodate.

The house fills with laughter, chatter, and the smell of the foods Poe grew up with. It’s enough to settle the pounding of his heart for the most part, and a smile paints itself across Finn’s face and finally stays. Finn sticks by Poe’s side, keeping their fingers interwoven as much as he possibly can. In the moments when they’re not needed, either being coerced by Kes to taste-test the dish in progress for dinner, or being shouted at by Rey or one of the kids for attention, Finn takes every opportunity he can to kiss him quickly, bringing their lips together. They’re each other’s respite above all else, and in his husband’s arms, Poe finally relaxes.

After their meal, Chewie builds a fire outside, instructing Hera to grab a blanket so she won’t freeze in the jungle’s cool night air. It’s then, when all the children are preoccupied with dessert and the flames, that Kes steers Poe away from the rest of the crowd, leading him down a nearby path in the woods. The last remnants of day illuminate their steps, enough so that Kes, even with his increasing reliance on a pair of spectacles, can see clearly.

“How are you holding up, son?” He asks when they’re some distance away, and Poe shrugs, shoving his hands into his pockets.

“I’m alright,” he says, squinting at the flames fluttering in the air far over Kes’ shoulder, and Kes sighs.

“You’re allowed to tell me-”

“I know, Dad.” Poe cuts him off, exhaling abruptly. “I know you’re here to listen to me if I need to talk,” he says, and a crease forms in Kes’ brow. “I’m doing fine.”

“I’m sure you are,” Kes retorts without any real bite behind the words. When Poe refuses to yield, he goes on. _“Mijo,_ this isn’t something you have to be brave about.”

“Isn’t it?” Poe barks out harshly. He gestures to his family nearby, enjoying the preoccupation of their company. “I have four kids, Dad. Hera’s nine years old. Temmin’s barely holding it together, and Lynia’s about to riot. If I-” all air leaves him in a sudden, dangerous rush. “I don’t want to think about what happens if I let myself go.”

“Alright,” Kes concedes. “But what about me? And Finn? You don’t have to be a tough guy for us.”

“I’m not being a tough guy.” Poe shoots back, and his father simply stares in response. Poe takes another steadying breath, attempting to remember himself. He wets his lips, trying to find where Finn is among Chewie and Rey and the children, and finally calms when his eyes land on his husband.

“I haven’t even wrapped my mind around it yet,” Poe confesses. “I feel like I’ve just been _waiting_ for it to hit me and it hasn’t.”

Kes’ expression softens, and Poe relents when his father envelopes him a hug. “When it does,” Kes advises, pulling back from the embrace, “let it all out.”

“Did you check the hyperdrive?” Poe asks again, and Rey titters out a laugh, peering around from the _Falcon’s_ underbelly.

“Yes, for the third time,” she affirms, and Poe scoffs, trying to defend himself. Chewbacca roars his own amusement, and the pilot rolls his eyes.

“Just checking,” he protests, and Chewie howls again, shaking his wrench at Poe.

“We’ll be fine, Poe,” Rey says, surprising him when she stands on her toes to throw her arms around his neck and stays there for a long moment. “I promise.”

“I know,” he agrees, but the nagging worry still doesn’t leave, either because of Rey’s departure or the implications of her possibly failing. “I still have half a mind to go with you though,” he says seriously, then jerks his head back to indicate Hera trying to convince Chewie to let her use a blow torch on the ship’s external panels, “but I have them to take care of.”

“You’re a family man now, General” Rey says, and she’s smiling softly, the familiar glow around her returning as her eyes sparkle. “Chewie and I can manage on our own.”

“Just be safe,” he reminds her, and she promises.

Their goodbyes are made in the garden outside the Dameron homestead. Hera sniffles as she hugs Rey, but a few whispered words in her ear evokes a reluctant smile, despite the somber mood of the adults.

“We’ll do whatever it takes,” Rey says, pulling Finn close to her. “Somebody out there has to know more than the doctors on Yavin IV do.”

“Thank you,” Finn says, and Rey nods. For a fleeting second, wetness appears in her eyes, but her typical resolve returns a moment later.

Temmin leans into Poe’s side, burying his face in his father’s stomach as the family watches the _Falcon_ launch into the atmosphere. As they go, Jedi and Wookie off on another adventure, Poe wonders if their mission is futile, or if somewhere, on a far off world out of reach of interplanetary data banks, they’ve actually bothered to find a cure for his husband’s ailment.

Poe can’t bring himself to admit it’s true, but as he regards the ship slipping from sight, far off into the stars, he thinks to himself that Rey might just be their only true hope.

“Lynia-”

“What?” She snaps, brusque and efficient. All around her room are boxes, in various stages of being unpacked. From the clothes strewn across the floor to the various books and pieces of memorabilia, the room is a mess, and with their daughter in the middle of it all, Finn has few doubts about what’s happening.

“Why are you doing this?” He says, knowing the answer and still dreading the response.

“I’ve decided to stay.” She says, not once pausing to spare Finn even a glance as she sorts through the piles of her things.

“We should talk about this first,” Finn suggests without any real conviction behind his words. As expected, his daughter ignores his statement completely.

“I turned down my application already,” Lynia informs him, and her voice wavers slightly when she says it. At last, she meets Finn’s eyes but turns away from his stare almost immediately.

“You what?!?” He demands, stepping into her room, navigating carefully around the heaps scattered around them. 

“I commed the academy and deferred my admission. I also withdrew my name from consideration for an apartment.”

“You shouldn’t have done that-”

“Too late,” Lynia hisses, proud and unrelenting.

“Lynia, you can’t just-”

“-but I did-”

“I know things are changing right now but-”

“I don’t care!” She cries, throwing her hands into the air. “I already did it!”

Finn takes a deep breath, disregarding his heart pounding painfully against his ribcage. “Lynia, let’s talk about this, okay? We can get back in touch with the university and explain that you changed your mind. Your Papa and I have a say in this too.”

“No,” Lynia is shaking her head furiously. “You did before you collapsed in front of Walton and Temmin. You did before you came home, _barely_ able to stand on your own and told us that you were practically dy-”

“No- _Enough!”_ A voice storms and Finn turns to see Poe in the doorway, hands trembling but he’s glaring, alight and angry. “Don’t talk to your father like that. This conversation is going to happen.”

She inhales deeply, face red and hair blown out around her like a fan, frizzed and distressed. But before she can summon a retort, the motion in the hallway catches her eye. Temmin is squeezing past Poe, gaze downcast and tears streaking down his cheeks.

Poe mumbles a curse, but before he can go after him, Hera pokes into the fray, brown eyes shining. _“Pap_ _á,”_ she gasps, and Poe falters, scooping her into his arms then tucking her body against his chest.

“It’s alright baby,” he says, even as the tears start. “I’ve got you, honey.”

A look and understanding pass between Poe and Finn. Still murmuring soft comforts to his littlest child, he follows Temmin, disappearing from view, and Finn confronts Lynia again. Her jaw twitches but she says nothing.

“Let’s be rational,” Finn starts. “Your father and I want what’s best for you.”

“I’m old enough to decide what’s best for me.”

“Really? Is throwing away your future what’s best for you? Because leaving, because following through on the plans you’ve been making for over a year seems like the better option to me.”

 _“I can’t go!”_ She erupts, and bitter tears track down the side of her nose. “How can you ask me to go when- when-” 

The rest of her words are caught in the sob that wracks her whole frame. Her breaths are heaving, legs quivering as she slowly sinks to the ground, bracing against her bunk with her right arm. 

Finn approaches her slowly, prying the perfectly folded clothes out of her hands and setting them on the ground next to her. Although she starts to keel over, curling in on herself, Finn moves closer, resting her head against his shoulder.

“I know,” he capitulates. “I know, love.”

“You don’t,” Lynia sobs, shaking her head. The ends of her hair tickle Finn’s chin, and he rubs her back, shifting so she’s nearly resting in his lap. “You don’t know how hard it is.”

The comforts die in Finn’s throat, but he pulls his daughter closer to him, and when words find him again, he whispers all that he can to reassure her. This time, the consolations feel less empty; Finn stays silent whenever a placating lie crosses his mind. Now, the falsities are no use, and everything is laid bare.

Poe catches up to Temmin just outside their home. He ducks behind a tree, breaths shaky despite his attempts to regain control. Poe tightens his grip on Hera, still wrapped around his waist, and bends down to talk to his son.

He wonders what use it is, now. They are fractured, painfully so, with deepening cracks in the structure of their lives. This grief, anger, anxiety- it’s all too familiar, like the echoes from the war that haunted their family even after peace was finally declared.

Poe knows there’s a breaking point. He’s witnessed this pattern again and again, and he’s patched up his family just as many times.

Not for the first time, he recalls saying farewell to that period of uncertainty in his life. But as the day has proved, the goodbye was not nearly as final as he once thought.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don’t know if y’all’ve ever seen “On the Basis of Sex” about my icon RBG, but there’s a scene with a very serious cancer diagnosis and I drew inspiration from that during the first part of the chapter. But, it doesn’t mean what you think it means, I will say that.  
> This chapter was definitely draining to write. A lot less action and much more action- more steeped in denial than I thought it would be, but I hope it feels real- last chapter delivered some big new and it’s definitely hard for the Damerons to process.  
> Thank you guys for reading, commenting, and leaving kudos! Your support and interest mean the world to me :)


	5. V

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> “If we can make it to the ground, we'll take the next chance. And the next. On and on until we win ... or the chances are spent.” -Jyn Erso

Lynia will stay with them.

There’s barely an argument left to be had. Finn cannot muster the energy to fight her again, and their eldest daughter goes several days without speaking to either one of her fathers. None of them can quite figure out how to move forward, and the muted tension in the house sings like a bowstring about to break.

Temmin tells Finn that his anxiety is improving, but they watch him carefully, monitoring his health. Part of Finn wishes he could simply hold his son to protect him from hurting, but he knows well enough to give Temmin the space he needs.

Meanwhile, Hera is like a storm, exploding unexpectedly and leaving the rest of them stunned in her wake. The reality of their changing circumstances seems to have finally caught up with her. Finn hates this more than anything else, and he finds her crying in her room, quiet and withdrawn, on multiple occasions.

Then, he does hold her, cradling his youngest in his arms and rocking her until she calms. She hates crying, she tells him. But, while her older siblings cannot be persuaded with the same tactics, at least most of the time, Hera can be gradually cheered with a cup of hot cocoa or promises of pancakes.

Finn feels as if he’s slapping a bacta patch over a photon-missile sized hole in a star destroyer. There’s too much damage for him or Poe to handle. But here, he’s grateful, because BB-8 is well-practiced at keeping the kids entertained, and Kes always seems to know when there’s trouble. Both presences were gladly welcomed into the house; Kes tends to appear without ever needing to be asked.

Even as time eases the wounds of their family dynamic, a new tension begins to tug painfully at Finn. His first round of treatment rapidly approaches, and he’s not sure what to expect. In one regard, he’s glad to have a purpose, to be doing something about his circumstances, but a sense of dread settles over him like a cloud of fine and persistent dust.

From what he knows of the type of medications to be administered to him, the journey ahead offers no comfort. They comm Astri again, and her face sets into stone, grave and sad as she listens to Finn speak.

“I’m going to be honest,” she says, words slow and careful. “Best case scenario, it gets worse before it gets better. It’s going to be hell, Finn.” She turns to Poe. “For both of you. I only qualify this because you’ve lived through a war, but this will be one of the hardest things you’ll ever do.”

Finn knows how to be both scared and brave. Both he and his husband know how to swallow their fears, lift their chins, and plow forward blindly into adversity. Poe takes his hand, kisses his cheek, and promises that they can face this.

He believes it, because there’s no other choice.

When evening comes, Finn is able to fall into an easy rest, even while his husband fails to do the same. Poe is accustomed to this, because Finn has always been capable of sleeping anywhere, at any time, and Poe rarely manages to sleep without assistance from medication or sheer and absolute exhaustion. This conjunction suffices for the most part, except in the early days of their marriage when Finn had slept through Hera’s midnight cries, and Poe was left to fend off their infant alone. Then, they had established the specific circumstances where Finn could be disturbed from his beauty sleep, and not be allowed to grouch at Poe for it.

In the morning, they will send their kids off to school. They will kiss Lynia goodbye, and they will go to the medcenter, where a round of poison waits to be injected into Finn’s veins.

None of it could possibly be real. Yet Poe knows what he’s going to wear and say to Hera and bring with them to ensure that Finn stays comfortable. They’ve confirmed with Pheraa and discussed the best options to make Finn better, although he and Finn are still the only ones who dare use the term. Because, after all, they know the condition is a killer, and they know that there's a lot to be done, but they don't know if it'll ever be enough.

Poe has accepted the unknowns. He can't fix it. He can only drive his husband to treatments and work with the doctors and the strategy teams and be there for Finn in whatever ways he can.

So he does that. He and Finn hug the children goodbye at the beginning of the day, and a few hours later, they head out the door, telling Lynia they'll be back in a few hours. She tolerates their hugs, and even tightens their shared embrace.

Then, they're at the medcenter. Finn checks in, providing his full name, and the date of birth they guessed for him to put on official records. The waiting room is just as cold as the rest of the hospital, but they don't spend long there before a door slides open, and a med droid calls out for Finn. The three of them traipse down the halls, following each other until they reach a room, only curtained off rather than totally private from the rest of the wing.

It’s strange. The medcenter on Yavin IV wasn’t one Poe typically frequented, at least before this whole mess started. But he’s not used to seeing it busy, out here in the jungle, where only the occasional farmer has reason to visit.

However, the further they stray into the medcenter, the more crowded the hospital becomes. And it’s not the usual check-up crowd, either.

They pass people who are visibly sick, who have IVs in their arms as they pace the hallways, a med droid or a loved one trailing behind them. Sunken cheeks and empty eyes, far away on pain and medication, gaze at them. It’s people of all ages and creeds. Younglings. Elders. Anyone and everyone Poe could ever imagine. Near-permanent residents of the medcenter, because they have nowhere else they can be, so dependent on medicine and care.

Something hardens in Poe’s throat. He resolves to catch up with Finn and takes his husband’s hand.

Finn is directed to sit while the droid takes his vitals. Poe claims a chair next to him, the one not surrounded by machines and wires he fruitlessly hopes won’t be connected to Finn.

They have to wait again, the two of them. There isn’t silence, because Poe’s heartbeat is pounding in his ears.

After a few minutes, the curtain is pulled aside, accompanied by the sound of durasteel rings against the rod keeping the fabric in place, and Finn winces at the noise. A fresh-faced nurse pokes his head in. His skin is a mint green, nearly bumpy in texture, and wispy tufts of purple hair are spread across his skull.

“I’m Natan,” he says, and his words are heavily accented. Finn can’t place the region, nor his species, but the blue of his eyes seems calm, and his presence in the Force is tightly controlled, despite the flowing aura of nerves around him. “I’ll be helping you through treatment today.”

Finn nods, and returns the genuine smile the man offers.

“We’ll get you ready first,” Natan continues, “just cleaning and preparing all the equipment. Then the doctor will come in and we’ll get started.”

Finn looks from Poe’s hand gripped in his to Natan, moving about the room in his scrubs. By now, the tubes and needles for the IV are familiar; Finn removes his jacket so Natan can clean the injection site. Instead of watching Natan prick him, Finn chats with Poe, and shining eyes stare up at him. Temmin has been excited about a history project at school, the needle enters his vein, their son seems to exceptionally enjoy the course and wants to take more like it next year, Finn can feel the heat of the blood against his skin, maybe they’ll find a course over break so Tem can maintain his interest, the needle stings but Finn is used to the pinch. Natan tapes the IV to his arm.

The doctor, Rusto, arrives some minutes later; they’re one of many Finn has met over the last few weeks. They greet the couple with a soft smile, one that appears mostly genuine, and they explain all the medicine that Finn is about to have injected into his body.

They’re chemicals, Poe knows. Finn’s diseased cells will be killed, mostly, and they’ll take healthy ones with them.

Rusto seems practiced in making treatment sound less terrible than it will turn out to be. Their tone is perfectly neutral as they describe symptoms and side effects: nausea, hair loss, fatigue, loss of appetite, aches, and pains.

“Great,” Finn says. They’ve done their homework by now and not much of this information comes as a surprise. It occurs to Finn then that this could be it; today may be the healthiest, strongest he’ll ever be for the rest of his life.

Clear bags of drugs are wheeled into a room, along with a med droid to monitor Finn. Poe’s leg bounces up and down, and Finn simply squeezes and releases his husband’s hand again and again.

He’s not scared anymore. Nervous, perhaps, but there is no fear.

“I’m going to connect your IV now,” Rusto says, holding the two tubes in their fingers. Finn only nods again, and he senses Poe still beside him.

The two men look at each other. Usually, one of them would offer a smile for reassurance, but neither can quite manage the gesture now.

Just before the first drop of treatment enters Finn’s veins, Poe lowers his mouth, brushing his lips along Finn’s knuckles. When he looks back up, their shared gaze holds strong and unbroken, glazed with tears as it is.

Finn sobs.

The water is hot; pouring down his bare skin.

He feels fine. He feels nothing and everything.

His before-symptoms mingle with the after-effects of treatment. His head is fuzzy; he's sore and tired.

Finn's always tired. There's no escape.

_The condition will likely prove fatal in some months._

It's not the first time Finn's been told he's about to die.

He's always hated the waiting, though. There's no sensation like purgatory; death at the door and time frozen still.

His heart could be squished in a trash compactor for how tight it is. Finn has needed to cry for so long, but he can hardly do so in front of Poe or the kids.

_The kriffing kids._

Finn is certain, if anything else, that he cannot leave them behind. Cannot, will not.

Another sob wracks his frame. He reaches out, bracing against the duratile wall of the sonic.

The fear that grips him now is almost unfamiliar; it hasn’t bothered him in nearly ten years. He doesn’t know what to expect next, aside from a greater loss of control over his own body and more torment, and everyone looking at him like he’s about to shatter into pieces.

The fact that he might is irrelevant. Underneath the wooziness and aches, he’s still conscious and strong and more than something _diseased_ and ill.

Finn thought he was done with pain; he recovered slowly and agonizingly from a lightsaber wound to the spine. He thought he was done with a loss of bodily autonomy after escaping the First Order.

Was peace too much to hope for?

He is a traitor to a tyrannical regime that ruled the galaxy. He is a General from a galactic war that killed billions. He is a survivor of planet-killers, murderers, and genocidal maniacs who kidnapped him as a child and kept him under their control and attempted to kill him over and over and over again.

Finn is a hero, a Jedi, a warrior.

It doesn’t make sense, what’s happening now.

His fingers curl into a fist.

_There is no emotion, there is peace._

Finn takes a shuddering breath.

Master Skywalker had offered his thoughts on that mantra, but Finn knows the words well. He will let go of his anger.

The Force surrounds him; it is the life humming throughout the house. It is spread across the planet, in every life force, fizzling across the stars through his connection with Rey.

_There is no ignorance, there is knowledge._

Leia had found him once, as he sobbed in a maintenance closet and tried to remember how to breathe. The General, literal royalty, sat on a bucket and rubbed his back while he cried.

When the panic attack subsided, she told him one day at a time. She had winced a little when she said it, but that was the best she could offer. Despite the odds, despite the hopelessness, all they could do was take it one day at a time. Or one hour or one minute. Whatever he could manage.

Her words tided him over until he knew what hope was again. Leia couldn’t have known the price of their eventual victory, but she was aware of how to ensure they wouldn’t give up in the meantime.

The Force is with him. That will be enough.

“What?” Finn says slowly. Hera shakes her head, looking down at her plate again.

“That’s suspicious,” Finn sighs. “That’s suspicious, you know.”

“I’m not doing anything!” Hera protests loudly. Walton and Temmin stop their conversation, watching them now.

“You look like you’re up to something,” Finn points an accusing finger, barely grinning.

“I’m not!” She bursts, and the table goes quiet.

Finn looks at Kes blankly; his next teasing retort dying in his throat instantly.

Next to him, Poe closes his eyes and lets out a measured exhale. Finn could either scream or cry again. He extends his hand to Poe under the table, and focuses on the contact.

“Okay,” he starts, “Hera, I was joking.”

She glares at him, eyes shining. “Well, it’s not funny. I’m not doing anything.”

Finn blinks. Hera has been glowering at him for the entirety of the meal, carefully watching him as he ate. Although annoyance prickled at him, the attempts to understand her actions were lighthearted.

But not received as such, apparently.

“Lynia, where have you applied to work again?” Kes asks, and Finn bites his lip to prevent a sigh from escaping. Across the table, Poe is staring at him, deadpan, but Finn avoids his gaze.

When they finish eating, his family pushes him away from the kitchen, chiding him for not clearing his plate. This would be laughable if it weren’t so infuriating, but Hera slams her dishes on the counter, and the next they hear from her i **s** her door sliding shut, the lock clicking loudly.

Since Kes is with them again to help with the house, Poe negotiates his way out of cleaning up. Finn rubs his eyes, working the headache pounding in his brain, and Poe snakes an arm around him.

“Do you want to rest?” It’s been his request all afternoon.

Finn steps away. “I want you to act normal. All of you.”

Hurt dawns in Poe’s expression; now guilt adulterates Finn’s anger. A crash sounds from the hallway, followed by loud crying.

Silence. The house is deathly still, and darkness lurks in Poe’s eyes. “I’ll get her,” the other man says, turning to their daughter’s room. Finn holds back a curse, but he lets Poe retreat.

That night, he still allows Poe to kiss his cheek and ask if he’s okay again. Tomorrow, he will be more tired than before, but Finn is always tired. It makes little difference to him.

* * *

“I have you,” Poe mutters, and Finn might mind his placations later, after he’s rested, but now he’s just glad that Poe is there to hold him up.

“Poe, I’m going to be fine.” Finn thinks he might be entire worlds away; his voice and body are no longer connected, and he recognizes his house but it’s too surreal. He’s falling, possibly, and certainly stumbling.

It’s not until Poe is tucking him into bed, and exhaustion overtakes him like a wave, that Poe responds.

“I know,” he says, brow creased. Finn’s eyelids are so heavy, and sleep is blissful. The spinning in his head stops, and he’s lost before he can even fathom a reply.

Poe waits until the door shuts behind him before he drops his head into his hands, resting wearily against the wall. He’s lucky enough that Lynia hadn’t emerged to greet them, but in a matter of weeks, the kids will be on break and witness Finn’s post-treatment stupor. He might have to leave them with his father to spare them the sight.

The first day had only eliminated his defenses; Finn was largely fine after the visit to the med center and sprung back quickly. Even if he did grouch at the rest of them for being overbearing, they managed the day the best they could. 

But now, after round two, Finn is exhausted and dazed, miserable and in pain **.** He had spent most of his time at the medcenter with his eyes pressed shut, his hand limp in Poe’s.

 _It hurts._ That’s what he said an hour in. _It kriffing hurts._ Two hours in, there had been tears in his eyes.

Poe knows that Finn will understate his pain, so the reports that he is aching and cramping are indicators that he’s in agony. Pheraa and Rusto told them, both sincerely regretful, that it meant the drugs were working.

They’ve outlined at least eight more weeks of treatment, twice a week. Poe tugs at his hair in frustration. He’s forgotten to shave again, too.

“Is Dad alright?”

Poe meets Lynia’s eyes. Her tone is softer than usual, and he opens his mouth before closing it again.

“He’s resting,” Poe says, voice scratchy. “Today was harder than last time.”

Lynia’s lips press into a firm line, but she accepts the statement with a nod. “Let’s keep the kids outside, okay? I’ll look after him but some quiet would be good.”

“Alright.” Poe’s never had to strain himself to understand her anger. Lynia nods once. “Yeah.”

Hera is the worst at disguising her hurt. The older children adapt well enough- Temmin is quieter and more careful, but Hera- his beloved daughter, not even ten years old- is furious with Finn.

It shows. Three weeks into treatment, it shows.

“Thank you, of course.” Poe’s tongue sticks out between his teeth. For the sake of the teacher watching him on the holo, he tries not to grimace. In the background, however, Finn is significantly less composed.

The connection ends abruptly, and Poe turns to his lover. “Well,” Poe sighs. “Did you see this coming, or was it just me?”

Finn’s eyebrow quirks upwards. “Well, good job stopping it.”

“Thank you,” Poe says, tilting his head, smiling sardonically. Then, he releases a groan. “It’s nothing we can’t fix, right?”

“You like writing apology letters? Or maybe we should make her do it face-to-face?”

Poe sinks down at his desk across from Finn. “I expected her to be angry,” he confesses, and Finn takes his hand. “I didn’t think she would yell at people, though.”

“She _is_ a Dameron,” Finn admits. “Sometimes we yell, right? We yell.”

“Not at children. We don’t yell at children.”

“Mm.” Finn blinks slowly, looking for the cup of caf he had brought into the office this morning. Noticing this, Poe passes him water instead. Finn glowers at Poe in return.

“I can drink caf,” he says, “doctors gave me permission. Cause you asked.”

“You need to hydrate,” Poe says, voice brittle. “Consider it the price for coming into work today, dear.”

“Funny.” Finn snaps. “Because I didn’t think I was incapacitated, Poe.”

“You’re sick.” Poe’s voice is uneven, unusually pitched. “You need to take care of yourself.”

“The galaxy hasn’t stopped spinning, Poe!” Finn’s hands are shaky, but he grabs onto the edge of the desk to steady himself. “And maybe, if you really wanted to help me, you could talk to Hera instead of waiting for her to yell at her classmates! Or offer to help around the house, or get your work done on time!”

“Oh, are you my boss now? Because I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but I’ve been dealing with a personal health crisis in my family right now, so forgive me if I’m not meeting your work quota.” Poe stands again, pacing across the room. He glances from Finn, whose features have solidified unto a frown, to the holo again. “I’ll talk to Hera. But Force forgive us if she struggles right now.”

The door slides shut behind Poe, leaving Finn stunned in his seat. “Difficult man,” he mutters, and tries to stabilize himself again. Despite the headache, there’s work to be done.

Sometimes, Finn misses the adrenaline of battle. Not necessarily the brutal fights involving too many people and too many casualties, but the easy missions, where he could race through the halls of a star destroyer, dodging blaster fire with Poe at his side and feeling unstoppable for it.

It certainly provided an outlet for pent-up energy and frustration. Now, Finn endures long talks with Hera about anger, and he’s there for Temmin when he cries and asks questions. He supports Walton, holding his son all night when he spends the day researching Finn’s illness and cures on the HoloNet, causing his rest to be ravaged by nightmares of losing his father, his family, and his home.

It’s too much. Finn is tired of it; he can’t comfort Poe and the kids and fight for his life at the same time. Hells, he can barely eat dinner, much less be a family counselor.

Poe sees him as a dying man. His tone is like he’s only rarely ever heard before, the one he uses when Tem has a panic attack or Hera scrapes her knee.

Finn is more than dying. He’s fighting and he’s trying and he’s being poisoned once every three days to stop that reality from ever occurring.

It’s paradoxical how his family is unable to say the words _dying, fatal, terminal,_ but Finn doesn’t think they’ll ever look at him the same way again. It’s as if he’s a wounded animal. There’s a strange and hated gentleness that others regard him with now.

He doesn’t want this to be normal. He misses being strong and he longs to remember the last day where he wasn’t in pain.

At the same time, Finn wonders if the pity will ever end. If he’ll become one of the skinny, hollow-eyed residents of the medcenter and his sickness will be the norm instead of so unusually pathetic as it is now.

“Lynia was pretty hurt, you know.” Poe says, stepping out of the ‘fresher. “You snapped at her, honey.”

“I’m not made of transparisteel,” Finn responds, staring up at the ceiling. “I don’t need to be checked on every fifteen minutes.”

“They’re worried about you.” Poe crosses his arms, leaning against the door. “We’re all worried about you.”

“I’m fine.”

“You’re sick.”

“I’m a capable adult.”

“You’re sick, Finn, and your kids are worried about you.”

Finn scoffs, rolling out of bed and leveling himself with Poe. “I can’t live like this, Poe. I’m too tired to act like everything is fine and tell you all that it’s okay you’re all so sorry for me. I don’t want your pity.” Finn circles Poe, stalking closer as he rants.

“You’re overwhelmed. And we’re all doing the best we can to support you, so-”

“This isn’t working!” Finn is loud suddenly, so much so that Poe takes a step backward **.** “I’m not going to kriffing break, Poe! You don’t have to infantilize me!”

“Yeah? Well, you’re sick. You’re sick as hell, so forgive me for wanting to do something about it!”

“I’m not a child!” It hurts to yell, so Finn takes a deep breath and tries to quiet himself. “Stop acting like I’m about to drop dead-” Poe flinches. “There’s other stuff to talk about than asking me how I’m feeling or apologizing ‘cause I’m in pain.”

“I don’t know what to do,” Poe still looks pale, as if he’s been slapped by Finn’s words. “I don’t know how to act.” He steps closer to Finn. “I don’t want you to be in pain, baby.”

“I know.” Finn hasn’t been able to feel his legs all day. “I know you’re all trying, Poe. But I need you to trust me. If I say I’m fine, I am. You don’t need to ask me a hundred times. And don’t talk to me in that concerned voice of yours, either.”

“Okay.” Poe sits down on the bed, eyes shining and full. Because he sounds heartbroken, and because Finn hates being angry and helpless, he crosses the room to Poe, who wraps his arms around Finn’s waist and buries his face in his stomach. “I’ll try.”

Finn dips down, kissing the top of Poe’s head. “I’m sorry,” he murmurs, and Poe echoes his words, before tipping his face up so Finn can access his lips. His husband obliges.

One month.

Finn’s hair has begun to thin, and at the same time, it’s grown long over his fears of cutting it and losing it all. In addition to his exhaustion, Poe is nearly afraid to touch Finn; bruises spread across his skin, and Finn’s been warned not to shave or handle knives, for fear that he’ll bleed easily if inflicted with an open wound.

Today’s a big day, but Poe is somehow accustomed to the journey to the medcenter. He helps Finn out of the speeder with no complaint arising from either of them, and Finn is able to smile once or twice as they wait to meet with the care team.

There’s a desperate want for good news, and although Poe knows- _he knows-_ the probability of success, he’s seen how Finn has suffered. He’s been at every session and cared for Finn in all the days following.

He’s earned an ounce of good news.

Rusto shakes both of their hands. For all of their sakes, they’re straight to the point.

“There hasn’t been a significant spread, but the reduction we were hoping for doesn’t seem to have occurred.” There’s a holo of Finn’s form on the table between them, and burning red displays the illness eating away at him.

There’s too much still. Poe’s stared at the initial scans for hours.

There’s not enough change.

His breath hitches; Finn shifts closer and squeezes his hand.

“This correlates with what we’ve seen from other patients with the same ailment.” Rusto is calm, conversational. “At this point, we would typically try increase treatment doses and level of aggression.” They sigh, running their fingers through their silvery hair. “However, that does have its own risks. There are also other options.”

With a tap, Rusto pulls up a map, and wit it, an image of another medcenter. Poe squints to see it.

“There’s an advanced medical facility on Ryndellia. We’ve been relying on much of their research to treat Finn, but in truth, the experts on your condition are there. If you would like to explore other treatment options, they may have the solution you need. I can recommend you to their care.”

Finn and Poe exchange a glance, and Rusto adds “You should discuss this between yourself first, of course.”

Rey has reported no findings in her search, only dead ends and best wishes from locals horrified to hear of Finn’s conditions. Although she had not betrayed the feeling herself, Finn knows she is increasingly desperate and frustrated to help him. And the medcenter says there’s not much more they know to do.

They’ll discuss it. Change may follow.

There are holos with Ryndellia. There are conversations with Rey and Kes and Jannah and the kids. Finn has the privilege of more testing and more medication and more invasive questions.

They’re going to move. All six of them, just as the academic term ends. Lynia jokes that she’s helped them practice finding an apartment and Poe hates that it feels like he’s in the Resistance again, leaving home to find a new base to settle on, following the barest threads of hope to an uncertain victory.

The doctors on Ryndellia are kind and understanding, and Astri has promised to meet them there to help.

They’re fighting.

Finn feels like he’s battling with his own body, a daunting war he doesn't know if he’ll win. But he hasn’t given up yet.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, here’s your weekly dose of pain. I’m sorry for what I’m doing but I’m very glad to see that the Finnpoe babies are being well-received. It means the world to hear.  
> Thank you to Ver, E, and Anna for beta-ing this chapter. I love you all.  
> Thank all y’all for your support!!


	6. VI

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> “Hope is like the sun. If you only believe it when you see it you'll never make it through the night.” -Leia Organa

“Okay, let’s move these onboard-”

“No, BeeBee, you don’t need an extra charging station.”

“Should I take my other books for school?”

“Papa, where’s the crate with my toys?”

Poe might rip out his hair. He’s been awake since dawn loading boxes into their ship, but they’re still hours away from being ready to depart.

It can’t help, he’s sure, that no one quite knows when they’ll return.

Finn’s life expectancy with his current treatment plan is less than a cycle. Astri and the team on Ryndellia are hoping to ensure that they are never forced to hear “life expectancy” ever again.

The experimental treatment course may last half a cycle if all goes well. That’s the estimate.

Poe has been so preoccupied caring for Finn- pleading with him to eat, taking him to the medcenter, helping him with work- that he’s hardly had time to think of anything else.

“Tem, pick half of those books. All you need to take are the ones you really want. Hera, everything is packed already and we’ll find it once we get there.”

Poe shoots his son a grateful look, and Walton nods tightly, lips pinched. “Can you ask Lynia to carry those last few boxes from our room?” When Walton leaves, Poe turns back to Finn. “ _Amor,_ you need to eat.”

“This is disgusting,” Finn remarks, staring at his plate in disdain. “I can’t.”

Poe bites his tongue, kissing the top of his husband’s head. “Okay,” he says, starting at the plain piece of toast. “What would you like instead, dear?”

“I’m not hungry,” Finn says, and Poe chuckles ruefully.

“I feel like we’ve had this conversation before.”

“A few times.”

“A few times? Well, how about you eat five more bites, and then we can go.”

Hera had been an easy baby. She loved to laugh, and although she could be fussy or clingy, rarely was she frustratingly unreasonable.

They never had to negotiate to convince her to eat.

Finn is aching and nauseous more often than not. Sores have developed all over his mouth, and even water is repulsive to him. The rich foods of Yavin IV, in particular, have been banned from the house, so Kes has become a smuggler of sorts, cooking for the kids whenever they spend the day at their grandfather’s. Poe’s lucky if a few bites get snuck to him, too. The smell of cooking alone can be enough to set Finn off.

Vomit, blood, and medcenters no longer carry any weight in their household. After a certain number of discussions about Finn’s various bodily fluids, and having cleaned them off of his bedroom floor, Poe is immune to any apparent grossness.

The day has stretched well into the afternoon before they’re ready to take off. By the time they do, Finn is asleep onboard, curled up in a bunk with Temmin beside him. Kes comes to wish them goodbye, clutching his son and grandchildren close, reminding Poe, not once, but twice that he’ll be there should anyone need him. He’s just a comm away, Kes says, and Poe nods, blinking tears out of his eyes as he launches.

His father stands alone on the ground, waving at the retreating ship. Poe’s seen it a hundred times before. This isn’t the first time he’s left home behind.

Ryndellia is everything Finn hates to endure at the medical center.

The planet is bustling; a premiere spot for medical services in the galaxy. The whole surface is industrialized, converted to hospitals and recovery centers. It’s dry and hot and not nearly as comforting or interesting as Yavin. Here, the trees are scrawny, the ground creeping with carefully groomed underbrush. Altogether, it’s too white, too artificial, and too pristine.

Their apartment is nice, although Finn is still half-asleep when he stumbles in. Walton grips his arm, supporting his father as they make their way through the door. Behind him, Lynia and Poe struggle with the first load of luggage, but Hera and Temmin have already pushed past into the house.

“It echoes!” Hera shouts, and Temmin looks back at the rest of his family, hesitating before exploring. When Finn nods at him, their youngest son sets off on his own, ducking his head into each room.

There’s furniture, but it’s far from home. The apartment has so clearly not been lived in or loved in so long. There are no pictures on the wall, and a fine layer of dust has settled over the rooms. But, most jarring of all is the disparity in the living Force. Where Yavin IV teems with life, Ryndellia has a weak presence in the Force, one that ebbs continually, as if it’s dying.

Finn has been sequestered because of his illness, driven to a world far away from home. Part of him wonders if he’ll ever return to Yavin IV.

Walton delivers him to a sofa, which faces windows and a small garden. It’s quaint, reminding Finn a little of their first home after the war, when it was only him and Poe, although Hera followed soon after. Largely empty and most of all, very temporary.

Logically, Finn shouldn’t feel sick to his stomach at that thought. But whether their apartment seems to be such an interim because patients are quickly cured or quickly dying is lost to him.

It’s a question better left unanswered, he thinks.

At the very least, moving seems to be a sufficient distraction from everything going on. Hera and Temmin’s excitement is infectious, at least to Lynia and Poe. Walton is weary, but the others have found a purpose beyond fawning over Finn all the time.

There are many small victories to be had, Finn knows.

Although he is strictly prohibited from helping- not that he’s remotely capable of any heavy lifting-he lets Hera direct him on where things should go. It feels as if they’re corrupting the neatness of the house with their presence; Finn quickly learned that four kids bring a mess wherever they are.

And promptly, they’ve settled in, the kids divided up in their rooms. Hera and Temmin had elected to share, leaving their older siblings together. The newness of the experience seems to disguise the fact that for the first time, their daughter has to sacrifice having her own room. But Finn suspects that if anyone is to complain about the increased company, it will not be Hera.

Together, they breathe life into the new apartment. Despite the exhaustion, despite his nerves about his next visit to the medcenter, Finn can smile again.

Poe kisses him goodnight later, curling into his lover’s body.

“I can’t sleep,” Finn admits what he’s certain Poe already knew. Poe only nods in response.

“Are you scared?”

Finn’s not.

“Cause I’m kriffing _terrified.”_ Poe shifts to face Finn. “Honey, what if-” The other man inhales shakily. “We came all this way. We moved the kids halfway across the galaxy, and we don’t even know-”

He breaks off, voice trembling. Their room is darker than their one on Yavin, but Finn can hear the tears in his words and wipes off Poe’s cheeks.

“This has to work, Finn. I can’t live without you, sweetheart.”

Finn chokes back a sob, rolling into Poe’s arms. “We don’t know, Poe. We don’t know if it’ll work.”

“I can’t lose you. I can’t lose you, Finn. You’re too-” Poe is sobbing now, shoulders heaving.

“We have tomorrow. There’s a plan, remember, Poe?”

Finn clings to his own words desperately. It’s the only hope they have.

“Finn! Poe!” Astri Derlin’s voice rings out in the hallway, and the sheer joy in her tone is enough to evoke a smile from both men. “It’s good to see you!”

Without a second of hesitation, she wraps her arms around Finn, pulling him close. Her grin is radiant, ear to ear, but Astri has always glowed. The golden markings on her skin are stretched wide from her expression, and her bangs frame the roundness of her face.

She’s typically this happy, which is why Astri is Finn’s favorite medic. They exchange greetings with ease, and as Finn looks at her, he feels the same overwhelming weariness that he has whenever Temmin shows off his newly learned x-wing maneuvers or Lynia spends the day at their adoption center.

Astri has grown up. Her hair, once flowing long and free, has been cropped above her shoulders. Black-framed specs sit on her nose, and there are light imprints of crow’s feet at the corners of her hazel eyes.

Once, she had sat with him and Rey on the edge of the base on Ajan Kloss, whispering their dreams for after the war. Finn didn’t miss Astri’s long glances aimed at Rey, nor did the women cease to tease him about his feelings for Poe.

Now, they’ve found partners, made families of their own. And he and Astri have been reunited in the hopes of curing his terminal disease.

“I thought I would come find you guys,” the Pantoran explains, turning down the long hallway. “Your team of medics should be getting ready soon. I just wanted to say hello first.”

The doctor explains Ryndellia’s processes as they walk. Given her connections in the medical world, and the fact that they’ve used much of her research at this facility, finding her place on Finn’s treatment council was of little issue. As a patient of the galaxy’s premiere medcenter, Finn will be able to consult with a wide array of experts, all of whom have been briefed on his condition and are meeting them today with a list of options on how to proceed.

The meeting itself is significantly more confusing than Astri’s watered-down explanation. Finn can’t recall the names of half of the doctors he meets, nor understand most of what they’re saying, even with his suddenly increased medical knowledge.

The majority seem to agree that aggressive treatment is the only way forward. Finn watches Astri’s face throughout, and any initial traces of joy disappear soon after the first doctor introduces themself. The doctors explain and debate for nearly an hour, and Astri’s frown never leaves her features.

“Unfortunately, there are no known survivors of this condition. With the reference point of other, similar cases, we can outlay a course of treatment, but the ultimate reality is that whatever route we take, it’s experimental.”

Poe nods. “Right. And our chances?”

He grips Finn’s hand tightly in his own. Finn doesn’t have the capacity anymore to dread the answer.

The lead hematologist, Sumer, hesitates. She’s a Quarren, tall and imposing, but her words are gentle as she answers. 

“Truthfully, it’s impossible to know. It’s to be expected that we can at least reduce Finn’s sickness, but the extent to which treatment will work is uncertain.” She blinks once, waiting for Finn to respond.

“Do you think I’ll live?”

Finn’s tone is brittle. Poe freezes beside him.

“It would be unprecedented,” Sumer says after a long pause. “But we are here to try every possibility we can.”

“Thank you, doctor,” Finn says, and Sumer bows her head in response. The husbands turn to look at each other, and Finn offers a tight-lipped smile.

Together, they plan a way forward. Tomorrow, Finn will undergo minimally invasive surgery to install a port in his side. He’ll have a few days to recover, then treatment will resume. First, medication will be administered in a method similar to that which he experienced on Yavin IV. Then, they’ll try radiation for any other infected cells.

The discussion gives Finn something like hope again; he can feel confidence swelling in his chest as he and Poe return home. At the very least, he has the luxury of going down fighting, of meeting whatever end lies in wait with conviction and a plan.

“I’m having surgery tomorrow,” Finn says, and Walton halts, with his fork forgotten halfway to his mouth.

“Already? What for?” Lynia asks. She seems overly conscious of her brother beside her, and for that, Finn is grateful. 

“I’m getting a port. It’s minimally invasive and should only take a few hours.”

“What’s that?” Hera pipes up. She’s as still as the rest of her family, and her tone is quiet but unafraid.

Finn smiles at her, and she mirrors the expression uncertainly. “It helps the doctors give me medicine easier. And it’ll drain any fluids from that area too.”

“Ew,” Temmin contributes, and relief washes over Finn when Walton manages a laugh at the comment.

“It’s a little gross, yeah,” Finn acknowledges. “It’ll help me, though.”

“Good,” Hera says, and Poe reaches over to squeeze her hand.

“How minimal is minimally invasive?” Walton exhales. His knuckles are white, clenched into fists on the table, and his expression is suddenly forced.

“I’ll be home tomorrow night,” Finn murmurs, turning towards his son. “And back on my feet as soon as I wake up.”

“Walton, this is the easy part,” Poe says, and curses himself silently as soon as the words leave his mouth.

“Great,” Walton says, rubbing at his eyes. “Sounds great.”

He stands abruptly. “I’m not hungry,” he announces, gathering his plate and utensils. “Thanks though.”

Finn and Poe exchange a look, both wincing when Walton’s door slides shut. In some ways, the outburst has been a long time coming, but it hurts to see nonetheless.

When Finn sleeps, he is free from pain. Poe will accept this as consolation and bear it the best he can.

Surgery exhausts Finn. When he wakes, hazy from pain medication, tears escape his eyes before he can even speak.

Poe holds his hand. He helps his husband, a fully grown man and father of four, sit up and sip water. When they arrive back at the apartment, Finn manages to hug Hera, weak and brief, before letting Poe tuck him into bed.

Instead of wallowing in the packages of bandages and the pervasive illness about the house, Poe suggests that they explore Ryndellia. While the rest of the family nods along, Walton only shakes his head.

“I’ll stay here, Papa. I’ll watch Dad.”

“Are you sure?” Walton’s long hair is unbrushed, tucked into a messy ponytail, and dark circles underline his eyes. “Maybe a break would be good for you, Walton,” Poe suggests, hands on his hips.

“I’m fine, _Pap_ _á,”_ Walton sighs. “I want to stay.”

“Okay.” Poe watches him carefully. “Come’re.”

His son permits the hug, with no shortage of begrudging reluctance. Anxiety stirs from deep within Poe’s chest, but Walton deflects Poe’s questioning when he asks if Walton is okay.

Perhaps time alone will benefit him, but Poe fumbles to truly accept meager reassurances that Walton is, as he claims, “completely fine.” He’s too alike Finn in that regard.

Neither of them can find the strength to argue, and Poe doesn’t want to leave Finn unattended as it is. Besides, the thing he wants most in the world is to leave the apartment, to find somewhere on the planet where the air is clean and fresh instead of recycled and sterile.

The exterior of the medical planet is as carefully groomed and controlled as the rest of the world. Uniform white pavers line the streets, and Poe counts four signs dictating “no speeders allowed” in the first five minutes of their walk. Noise pollution seems to be the enemy here. Ryndellia is not meant to be enjoyed by the healthy.

They meander into what appears to be the central part of their city. It’s meager and calm, and most everyone they see is either visibly sick or so exhausted they look as if they’re going to collapse at any moment.

The streets aren’t busy, but they pass several families, all of whom acknowledge them with a solemn nod at most.

Nobody smiles. There’s no happy laughter or chatter that Poe’s used to on more populated planets.

Some distraction this is. At least the occasional flowers are pretty.

Temmin gasps suddenly, and Poe stops in his tracks, looking around for the source of danger, but Tem only pushes ahead.

“They have a library!” His eyes are alight. “Can we go see it?”

Poe looks down at Hera, whose features have just filled with despair. Luckily, Lynia extends her hand to Temmin, and he takes it gladly, pulling her in the direction of the tall building.

“Meet us back here when you’re done! Or comm me!” Poe calls after them, and Lynia gives him a thumbs up without looking back.

“What should we do, honey?” Poe asks Hera, and his daughter shrugs, looking around.

“Are there any ships here at all?” She laments, lolling her head to the side. “I wanna look at ships.”

“You’re not just saying that because you love me, right?”

“No.”

“That’s what I like to hear. Let’s find some ships, sweetheart.”

They have to search far and wide to locate a shipyard, but Hera insistently pulls him along the road, using the few departing ships in the sky as their reference. Yet Hera is successful in her determined search, and after Poe is certain they’re lost, they come across a spaceport. It’s then that Hera splits away from Poe, pulling ahead to peer through the gate at the cruisers coming and going.

She can list off the class and type of nearly every ship she sees. Poe beams at her, lifting her onto his shoulders so she can watch over the fence, before promising to move inside the spaceport so they can see better.

Hera Dameron is named after the best pilot in the galaxy. Poe grew up with stories of Hera Syndulla, of her heroism and unmatched flying skills. Although he had hesitated to weigh his baby daughter with the name and legacy of one of the galaxy’s greatest icons, Hera certainly lived up to her namesake. Already, she’s better at practicing in her x-wing than Poe was at her age.

He’d met Hera and her son Jacen once. Between his parents’ praise and Poe’s own impressions of the pilot, he has no regrets about Hera being one of the women for his children to aspire to.

They find a seat in the spaceport near the windows. Although traffic isn’t terrible, Hera chatters to him about the specs of every ship they see.

Poe listens happily. She knows more than he does, at least about commercial vessels. It’s more than likely he could talk circles around her about fighters, but Poe can gladly accept a universe where that information is never relevant for his daughter to know.

They stay until a new cruiser arrives, and the seats around them slowly fill. A Rodian takes his place next to Poe, grinning at Hera’s exuberance.

“She knows everything, doesn’t she?”

Poe cracks a smile. “Well, somebody has to.”

“It’s good to see such excitement.” The white in the Rodian’s eyes sparkle. “We need more youth around here.”

“Are you visiting?” Poe asks. The other man’s voice is slightly scratchy, his clothes wrinkled. Poe recognizes the look; it’s the same one he sports when Finn is too sick to rise out of bed and Poe hardly has the time to glimpse in the mirror.

“My niece.” He nods. “She’s recovering from a speeder accident.”

“I’m sorry to hear that.” It’s automatic, and the Rodian smiles grimly, confirming his words with a short _thank you._

“What are you here for?”

“My husband. He’s-” there’s a lump in his throat. “He’s sick.”

The Rodian inclines his head. “That must be difficult. But you knew that.”

“Yeah.” Poe laughs, and the sound is harsh. “It- it sucks.”

“It gets easier.” The Rodian focuses his gaze on the window. “You get used to it.”

“Do you?” There’s bite behind his words, but Poe’s companion doesn’t seem to mind.

“Oh, yes.” He sighs, shoulders sagging. “My Ola has been here for nearly three cycles.” With a sad smile, the Rodian looks down at his hands. “The crash injured her spinal column. She’s still learning how to walk.”

“I-” Poe can’t find the words.

“Her lifeday was last rotation. I got to see her.” The Rodian sorts through his luggage, pulling out a holo. An image of a Rodian, fully grown but smaller than her uncle, is projected into the space between them. Her blue skin is largely covered by blankets, but she’s sitting up and smiling. Her left antennae is missing, half of her body marred with missing flesh and scars.

“She’s beautiful, isn’t she?” Poe nods, watching the figure carefully. Without thinking, he shifts Hera into his lap. His daughter is listening intently, leaning against her father’s chest.

“It’s hard to remember what it was like before the crash. Everything changed so quickly. She’s strong though. She never gave up.”

Poe inhales, wrapping his arms around Hera.

“I didn’t get your name.” the Rodian snaps back to the moment, stowing away the photo again.

“Poe Dameron,” Poe says, offering his hand. For an instant, recognition filters across the Rodian’s face, but he says nothing to indicate he’s heard of Poe before.

“I’m Tria.” The man’s palm is smooth against Poe’s. “It can be lonely here, Poe Dameron.”

A message sounds over the loudspeaker. Tria stands, grasping his suitcase, and Poe shifts Hera into his arms to rise as well.

“If you ever need a friend, I am here for you. I am a frequent visitor here.”

“Thank you,” Poe says, overcome, and the Rodian says his goodbyes, slowly disappearing into the mingling crowd forming around the gate.

Three years. Poe can’t imagine three years on this planet. It’s impossible to picture Finn getting worse, much less a reality where he wastes away in a medcenter day after day.

Then again, he couldn’t imagine that they’d be here six months ago, either.

“That’s a class XIII cruiser,” Hera says, still looking out at the hangar. “He was nice.”

“He was.” Poe doesn’t want to think about Tria. He doesn’t want to stay here. “Should we go find your brother and sister?”

“Does it hurt?”

Finn shakes his head. “Stings,” he mumbles. “I’m alright.”

Poe eyes him, looking up from Finn’s port. “Alright,” he mutters, hands shaking over the white bandages. “You have a lot of pus.”

“Thank you,” Finn sighs, and Poe rolls his eyes. “Is it draining?”

“Yeah, it’s draining.” Poe wraps Finn’s chest again. “It’s gross.”

“Thank you,” Finn says again, and Poe grins, grabbing Finn’s shirt and carefully pulling it over his husband’s head.

“You’re all set.”

“Still handsome?”

“Still handsome.”

“Okay.” Finn inches towards the edge of the bed, allowing Poe to pull him to his feet. “You have me, Poe?”

“I have you, sweetheart,” Poe says, and then Finn is eye-level with him again. A soft smile, only slightly twisted by pain, crosses his face. Awkward and unsteady, he leans in to kiss Poe, catching the side of his mouth with his lips.

“Dad?” Temmin is standing in the doorway.

“Yeah, baby?”

“Was that-” Temmin points to the lump under Finn’s shirt. “What was that?”

“My port.” Finn takes a few teetering steps toward the door. “Do you want to see?”

Temmin shakes his head, pressing himself against the doorframe. “Is it gross?”

Poe laughs, extending an arm around his son’s shoulders. “Yeah, it’s a little gross.” Finn frowns at him. “But not that gross,” he adds hastily.

“I don’t want to see,” Temmin decides, but still looks up at Finn. Carefully, as if he’ll break his father, Temmin wraps his arm around Finn’s waist. The older man swallows past the lump in his throat. “There’s a port and a drain.”

“That’s right.” Together, the pair moves into the house. Poe can hear the echoes of Temmin’s questions, and Finn’s patient replies.

They make their way outside, Finn urging his son to show him the garden he’s started. Temmin is responsible for some of the few spots of color near their apartment, claiming a small patch of earth for his own.

It makes Finn smile every time he goes past, a detail never unnoticed by Poe. As much as he dreads his kids facing Finn’s illness, Poe couldn’t imagine surviving this without their guiding light.

“I got it,” Poe reaches into his pocket, pulling out the commlink. Finn nods, resting his head against the back of his seat. He’s chilly today, and tired.

Rey’s form appears, tinted blue and small on the holo. Behind her, Chewie looms, and a fierce wind toys with his hair, whipping Rey’s tunic in the air.

“How are you?” Her voice is loud, even against the wind. With his eyes still closed, Finn giver her a weak thumbs up. Rey frowns.

“Are you?” She asks, and Poe shrugs on Finn’s behalf. “You don’t look good.”

Finn cracks an eye open, then shuts it again. “Thanks.” His port is in full use today; cold fluid drips steadily through the tubes and wiring connected to his chest. The thin, flimsy gown he wears only emphasizes the weight he’s lost, his collarbone jutting out against his twisted flesh.

“Have you found anything?” Poe asks, detecting Finn’s building annoyance. He watches as Rey’s expression slips into grief, and the young woman grimaces.

“We’ve been to six systems. Not many people have heard of it. The ones who do are mostly local elders. They…” her face contorts. “They’ve only heard of it once or twice in their lifetimes. They don’t know any cures.” Rey’s voice trails off. “Finn, I’m so sorry.”

“S’okay.” Finn’s words are a slur. Poe glances between his beloved and Rey, eyebrows furrowed together. “We’re trying here, Rey.”

Then, he winces, opening his eyes and sitting up straight. Poe extends a hand, steadying him.

“Shit,” Finn whimpers. “It hurts.” His eyes are wide, tears brimming. “Poe-”

Without a second thought, Poe hits the call button for a med droid. One wheels over immediately, but Poe pays it little mind as it adjusts Finn’s pain medication. A groan leaves Finn, but he clings tightly to Poe’s hand, panting as the moment passes.

“You’re okay,” Poe whispers, but Finn’s hand is both freezing and sweaty in his own. Finn shakes his head wordlessly, and Poe instinctively braces himself in preparation of Finn vomiting.

But Finn recovers after a few minutes, accepting the straw Poe raises to his mouth. He cringes, passing a hand over his port.

“It feels like I’m being stabbed,” he sighs. Poe catches his hand so Finn can’t scratch at the wound. “It just never stops.”

Poe kisses the back of his hand, and Finn lolls his head, looking at Poe before turning back to Rey.

“Maybe you should go home.” His tone is gentle, corrupted by pain but still deliberate.

Rey stares, and beside her, Chewie roars in disapproval.

“It doesn’t sound like you’re going to find anything.” Finn shifts slowly to meet her gaze. “I don’t want you to keep looking if there’s nothing to find.”

“Finn, I-” Rey’s eyes are huge. “I have to do this. I have to help you.”

“Maybe.” Finn squeezes Poe’s hand. “I don’t think you’re going to find answers out there.”

“Poe,” Rey rounds on the other man, “I’m not giving up.”

Poe exhales, running his fingers through his messy curls. “We’re not giving up, Rey.”

“I won’t come back until we can save you.”

“Rey.” Finn sounds so, so tired. “All I’m asking is that you come home.”

“Hey,” Poe breaks their lingering silence. “We’re trying, Rey. There could be answers here, and we’re seeing this through until the end no matter what.”

He falters on the last of his words. Rey’s mouth presses into a hard line, and Chewie voices his own complaints, which Finn dutifully acknowledges with a nod.

Poe still has hope. It’s the only way he sleeps at night, carried off to an uneasy rest with the thoughts of maybe, just maybe, Finn being cured here on Ryndellia.

Rey was their other chance. The light of that possibility has already died out.

“Would you like a hat?”

Finn frowns at him, piecing through his thinning hair. “I used to look good.”

“You always look good,” Poe says, kissing his cheek. Finn’s ribs are gradually becoming visible. He’s losing hair, and despite the hollows around his eyes, his face has swollen from the effects of treatment.

He's still the man Poe married. Nothing could ever change that, and there’s nothing that could make Finn any less beautiful to Poe.

“No hat,” he says, and he stands, wobbling only a little as he moves away from the mirror. Finn takes Poe’s offered arm, and Finn carefully arranges his mask over his mouth and nose.

“Are you ready?” Finn asks, and Poe knows he’s smirking.

“I thought we escaped this.”

“Well, we didn’t.”

“No, we didn’t.”

Already, Lynia and Walton have sequestered themselves in their room, fully prepared for Hera’s friends to arrive. She, social as ever, connected with other children on Ryndellia, and in their best efforts to keep their children happy, Finn and Poe allowed them to meet at their apartment. Their older kids could isolate with the excuses of studying, given Lynia’s attempts to work even with her education delayed, and Walton’s efforts to understand healthcare, now in the galaxy’s epicenter of medical knowledge. The parents were not so fortunate.

BB-8 rolls up to the couple, beeping rapidly. Poe raises an eyebrow.

“Did you let them in?” The small droid answers, indignant. “I know, buddy, but she’s gotta make friends, right?”

With a frustrated chirp, the astromech spins away again, accessing the door’s control panel. In the entrance stands a very ruffled, tired-looking alien. At her feet are two smaller beings, with long montrals and yellow and red skin.

“Roma!” Hera cries, pushing past her dads. “Terra!”

Finn leans on Poe heavily. “So long as she’s happy,” he says, and Poe agrees.

They endure. Poe hates small talk, especially when the main focus never diverts from the afflictions of a partner or friend, but Finn, equally put out, diverts the topic to their kids as often as they can. At the end of the day, Hera has a smile on her face, and she’s worn herself out too, which is always a bonus for the fathers of four.

Finn is having a good day, aside from shortness of breath. Poe has tried not to hover too much, except for the occasions when he does.

“How do you feel?” Poe asks, sitting down beside Finn on their bed.

Finn shoots him a dark look, and Poe remembers to smooth over the crease in his brow. “I’m sorry,” he says, and Finn softens.

“I know.”

There is silence, then Poe tentatively leans in to kiss Finn, hungry and wanting in a way Finn hasn’t experienced in months. His rough, trembling hands cupping Finn’s face, and there is a pull between them that has been dulled by sickness and exhaustion recently but now thrives. Finn’s shakes in his arms; his lips are chapped and he feels thin in Poe’s embrace. When they shift, and Poe pulls Finn closer, he does so with ease.

“Your beard,” Finn says, brow furrowed when they separate. “It tickles.”

Poe chuckles, still less than an inch away from Finn’s lips. “I haven’t been worried about it.”

“You look handsome.”

“Thank you,” Poe says seriously then a smile breaks out across his face. “As long as you think so.”

“I do,” Finn says. He leans in, resting against Poe’s chest. “I do.”

“I’ve missed you,” he continues, and there’s something strange that  
Poe can’t identify in his voice. “I mean, how we used to be. Before I was sick.”

Poe cradles his husband in his arms, looking down at his face. There’s no strength in his tone, no hope or conviction.

Finn is only like this at his worst. Since first meeting Finn, he’s rarely experienced the other man so devastated, and Poe has dreaded the times when his partner suffers so much to reach this point.

“I love you, Poe.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> More kids again! Not much to say except: we’ve made it halfway! Might be the indicator of an impending turning point, sooner or later :)  
> Thank you all for your comments and support! Stay healthy and safe y’all.


	7. VII

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> “Close your eyes. Feel it. The light… it’s always been there. It will guide you.” – Maz Kanata

Poe will never get used to the emptiness of their bed without Finn in it.

It’s too big and too empty. He tosses and turns, freezing even with the heap of blankets covering him. The couple is perpetually cold; Poe, deprived of Yavin IV’s warm jungle climate, and Finn, accustomed to the frigid temperatures of recycled air on star destroyers.

Finn needs a feeding tube, and consequently, an uninterrupted stay at the medcenter.

Poe is alone.

Finn would argue with him were there not a tube stuck down his throat.  _ You have the kids,  _ he’d say, even just with his eyes, but that’s different. Poe needs Finn; his comforting presence, his reassurance.

As a father, Poe is accustomed to a supportive role. He never wants to burden his children beyond what demons the galaxy has already implanted in their minds.

He can fall apart with Finn. Even his attempts to be brave are firmly rejected, seen through like they’re made of transparisteel. Poe’s could never keep his feeling a secret from his husband if he tried. Which, with all due practice, he doesn’t.

Though perhaps Poe’s grief and frustration at his own helplessness is an open secret. It’s old news, Poe thinks, as he turns over in bed again. They’ve all broken down in some way or another on Ryndellia.

Finn doesn’t let the kids see him cry. It’s only after the children have vacated his hospital room that he’ll let tears fall, leaning on Poe beside him for support.

The other man wipes the tears away when Finn is too weak to do it himself. Finn hates the medcenter.

_ It’s too cold,  _ he wrote to Poe on the datapad.  _ They keep this place freezing. _

At least Poe isn’t alone in that.

Poe’s door opens, and the silhouettes of Lynia and Hera are revealed. Poe cracks his eyes open as his youngest leads Lynia to his side.

“Can we sleep with you?” 

Poe glances at the chrono on his bedside table. It reads 0100.

“Sure,” he croaks, throwing aside his covers. Hera immediately clambers in bed next to him, and Lynia follows right behind.

Hera is warm, and she snuggles against him. Poe reaches an arm around her and Lynia both before he finally falls asleep.

“How’s your pain?

Finn numbly stares at the flashing sign across the room. In bright, blocky letters, a sign displays his options. Ten faces, in varying amounts of distress, stare at him.

Finn holds out four fingers, and the nurse raises an eyebrow but records the answer. She shifts his pain pump closer to him.

“Here if you need it,” she says, and Finn nods. They have this conversation every day.

Poe echoes her skepticism, kissing Finn’s cheek as the nurse leaves the room. “You don’t have to-” Finn silences him with a look.

Every part of Finn’s body aches. It’s a permanent soreness, one that makes his bones feel like lead. He’s sluggish, too, and too helpless to even speak.

He wants to go home. Not even to the apartment here on Ryndellia, but back to Yavin, where he could curl under the mess of blankets on his bed and sleep for days.

He wants that. A peaceful rest.

“I brought you Hera’s latest work of art,” Poe says, pulling a crumpled piece of flimsi out of his back pocket. Across the page are a myriad of bright colors, none of which Finn can distinguish into specific figures.

He offers Poe a thumbs-up, but he’s smiling. It’s expressive, to say the least, and “I love you Daddy” is written across the bottom in large lettering.

Finn clutches the picture to his chest, and Poe leans in, wiping the tear out of Finn’s eye with his thumb.

_ She’s doing okay?  _ Finn types the message with clumsy fingers. Poe reads it, the corners of his lips tugging up slowly.

“She’s still popular,” Poe grins, “I think she’s met everyone on the planet by now.” Finn waits for him to continue, looking up into his husband’s face, so Poe presses on. “She likes the care center here,” Poe says, although he sounds exhausted. They had seen the care center together, when the doctors hadn’t been keeping Finn hostage, and he was still encouraged to take walks to maintain his strength. It was a dreary and pathetic place, but it was filled with children just like Hera, who had sick caregivers on Ryndellia. She mentioned to them that it reminded her of their adoption centers, with all the parentless kids around, but Poe thought that their centers were at least cheerful. Beige paint coated every room here, and it was worn and overly temporary.

Poe misses the jungle, and he misses home. He misses Finn’s voice most of all.

Finn blows a kiss to Poe, letting his eyes close for a moment of rest. Poe shifts in the medcenter chair, glancing at the door. 

_ Finn,  _ a voice calls, and Finn looks around the room wildly. No one is there.

_ Finn. _

_ Do you hear that?  _ The message is typed and ready when the door opens again, revealing Temmin. His hair is unkept, swept into his eyes, but he enters the room and goes to Poe’s side.

“Where’s Walton?” Poe asks, wrapping an arm around his son, and Temmin shrugs.

“He was talking to some of the nurses,” Temmin answers, scanning Finn carefully. “He wants to know where they went to school.”

“Of course,” Poe mutters, but he shakes his head and grins. Finn reaches for Temmin’s hand, to distract him from the wires connecting to Finn, if anything. “Our little medic.”

_ Doctor,  _ Finn writes, and Temmin cocks his head.

“What’s the difference?” he asks, and Poe’s smile melts.

“A medic works during war,” he says, suddenly hoarse and dull. “A doctor gets to have a medcenter.” His gaze meets Finn’s, unhappy and piercing. Finn only shrugs, choosing to focus instead on the tiles decorating the ceiling.

“I brought you this,” Temmmin says, and he opens his hand to reveal a tiny purple flower. Finn recognizes it from the descriptions and holos provided by Poe. Their son has tended his garden to bloom; the first of his flowers have budded, and apparently, blossomed.

The Force hums; Finn’s love for Temmin is a fierce river between them. It pulls them close, and Finn can see Temmin in pure clarity; his kindness and love is like a sun contrasted against all the despair of the medcenter.

_ It’s beautiful.  _ Finn wishes his son could hear his voice, understand the affection in his tone instead of having an automated voice recite the words for him.

But Temmin smiles, squeezing Finn’s hand after carefully placing the flower in Finn’s other palm. “Thank you,” he says, his eyes never leaving Finn’s face.

His body aches. Finn desperately wants Temmin to be able to settle there, for his son to find refuge in his embrace as he seeks with Poe now. But the port throbs, hard and twisted into his skin. The wound is neat and precise, but no amount of medication can mask the hurt he feels, nor the persistent chill of the drugs that enter his body there.

_ How are things at home?  _ Temmin must be bored out of his mind, but he shrugs again, and Finn tries desperately to decipher Temmin’s expression. They did move across the galaxy, where their son has no friends, nor a place to meet new ones.

“I’m helping paint the walls of the care center,” Temmin says. “They’re using some of my flowers as a design.”

Finn’s eyebrow arches in surprise, but he nods. Painting is a new hobby, but Temmin is good at losing himself in detail and in art. The change will do good at the center.

_ I’m glad.  _ Finn wonders when he’ll be able to speak again. The sores in his mouth have started to heal after copious amounts of bacta were applied, but in all honesty, Finn doesn’t ever want to eat again.

He glances at Poe holding their son. That though is not something he can ever reveal. His husband is disheveled enough already, after a night by his side in the medcenter. The cot he slept on looks incredibly uncomfortable, even more so than the bed Finn is restricted to.

They’ve been trading off days so that Finn is never alone in the medcenter. Poe stays with him, most nights, but Lynia and Walton have offered to keep him company, too. Although Finn is bored, unable to move and unable to talk, at least his family is there for him. It must be worse for them than it is for him; Finn manages to pass the time by sleeping when all else fails.

“Lynia wants to spend tomorrow night here,” Temmin is saying, but he is quickly silenced by the door opening again.

One of the doctors- Finn can’t remember their name- greets them with a smile, shaking Finn’s hand and asking him to rate his pain again. Finn holds up three fingers this time, ignoring Poe’s shake of the head in the corner of his eye.

They negotiate, Finn frustrated and indignant as the doctor and his husband chastise him for his lack of appetite. Finn shrugs; there’s not much he can do with all the meds in his system, especially given he no longer retains control over his feeding. However, Finn manages to work out a deal; if he succeeds on IV fluids for a day, then transitions back to eating soft foods, he can go home soon.

It’s a deal. Finn fights without an ounce of his usual conviction, but instead an anger that makes tears well in the corners of his eyes. Fists clench at his side, but he convinces the doctor he’s ready to transition back to the normal routine of visiting the medcenter every day, rather than simply living there.

Removing the feeding tube feels like a wet, hot snake slithering through his insides; tears spill down his cheeks and he grips Poe’s hand tightly to ground himself. It pokes at his brain, far too large to be wedged between his nostrils, but then he’s free, coughing and gasping for air.

“How do you feel?” Poe is somehow teasing, and he only grins when Finn shoots him a dirty look. Still, he wipes the mucus and tears off of Finn’s cheeks, then kisses the clean skin.

“I’ll bring you tea,” he says, rising quickly. Upon the doctor’s input, he corrects himself. “Cold tea. With lots of honey.”

Poe sweeps from the room, his hands stuffed in his pockets. He’ll return with Walton soon. Finn’s throat hurts, but he nearly hopes that this is a sign of progress; he’s won one fight, so the war could be winnable too.

The nurse comes in the middle of the night to take Finn’s vitals. He wakes, lost in a haze, adjusting so she can scan him, but something restricts his right side. Craning his neck, Finn arches to see the source of encumberment, and when his eyes fall on Lynia, his heart sinks.

His eldest daughter is slumped next to the bed, her legs folded under her on the floor. Her face is pressed against his mattress, her hand still wrapped around Finn’s wrist.

The nurse tugs at his arm; Finn is too distracted to care. “Lynia,” he whispers, rousing her gently. It feels as if his throat is bleeding when he talks; his voice is nearly unrecognizable, even to himself.

Lynia wakes with a jolt, her head falling from its perch on his bed. Her hair is ruffled, her eyes wild, and she gasps, looking at Finn but not quite taking him in.

“Dad?” She asks, and Finn’s heart breaks. It’s a question, the same tone she used when she was just a child and would wake in the night. She’d scream, not knowing where she was or who her parents were.

Finn struggles enough to remember his surroundings each day. This rupture in their lives impedes not only their routine, but the peace they so carefully crafted for their family after the war. They wanted to be free of conflict and sorrow.

Finn reaches out to stroke his daughter’s cheek, grounding her in the dark room. She shudders at the contact, but doesn’t pull away, and tears fill her eyes.

“Dad,” Lynia says again, and turns her head to kiss his palm.

“I’m here, darling,” Finn manages, wincing as the words leave him. “Why don’t you sleep up on the cot, huh?”

Lynia shakes her head, but rises to her feet on trembling legs. “I love you,” she whispers, and Finn is barely aware of the nurse scanning him, the bright green light moving over his body.

He takes Lynia’s hand. “I love you too,” he says, and Lynia inhales a slow, steadying breath.

The cot screeches as metal legs drag across the floor. Finn winces, his already aching head pounding, but then Lynia lies down next to him; they’re separated only by vertical distance. While Lynia’s cot is pressed against his bed, it’s still a few inches lower. But, Lynia reaches up to take his hand all the same, weaving her smaller fingers through his.

When the door shuts behind the nurse, they stay like that. Finn’s last memory of consciousness that night is the warmth of his daughter’s hand in his.

Finn can’t sing to his daughter, but he mouths the words and hold her close. It’s her birthday- their baby is ten years old. Hera flushes, squirming into his side but giggling in the darkened room. Poe’s voice is clear and deep, leading the others in their celebration, and although the best they can offer as candles is BB-8’s blowtorch, they did manage to smuggle some cake into the medcenter.

Finn holds back Hera’s hair when she leans over the torch, and she preens when the flame is extinguished. Walton turns on the lights, then they divide up the cake. The icing is too rich and the flavor overwhelming, but Finn takes two bites off Poe’s fork, and is overjoyed when he keeps them down.

Before the celebration is ever truly finished, Finn is dozing again, but his room in the medcenter bustles with more life than it ever has before. Hera stays snuggled into his side, her elbows digging into Finn’s chest, but he can’t bring himself to mind.

When he wakes, both Poe and the doctor promise birthday surprises for Hera. The first: Rey is coming to visit them on Ryndellia. The second: Finn gets to go home the next day.

“We want to start a second phase of treatment,” Finn’s principal doctor, Clay, is explaining. Finn holds on to the arms of the hoverchair, carefully avoiding both Poe’s and Astri’s gazes. 

“Would you keep going with what you’re doing now?” Poe’s voice is steady, the tone Finn became accustomed to during war briefings. Clay nods.

“Radiation would help eliminate harmful cells, in tandem with the therapy you’re already receiving.” Clay gestures for one of his assistants to pull up Finn’s scans. It’s hard to observe any areas of reduced illness.

“You’re making progress,” Clay continues, pointing to blotchy areas of red in Finn’s limbs. “It’s started to retreat from your bone marrow in some places.”

“It’s closer to his brain,” Poe says, and Clay turns back to Finn’s projected figure.

“It has become more aggressive in his lymph nodes, yes,” Clay admits. There’s creeping red covering Finn’s neck and chest. “That’s why we’ve accelerated treatment.”

“Is it working?” Poe sounds choked again.

The room falls silent. Clay purses his thin lips, brow creasing.

“In a great many respects, yes. This is the most progress we’ve ever seen in a patient.”

_ But.  _ Finn thinks.

“But we’re racing against the clock, here. By the time we’ve eliminated the disease in one area, it’s often spread. We’ve tried localized treatments on top of generalized treatment, but between the cure and the illness itself- Finn is extremely weakened. If we were any more aggressive with our treatment, then the cure would be worse than the disease.”

Poe inhales sharply, turning away from the chart and muttering a curse under his breath. Finn can’t tear his eyes away from the projected image of himself.

“What we’ve seen so far is promising. Radiation has also proven to be effective.”

They made no guarantees, Finn remembers. There was no way to be certain that he’d ever get to return home and live the rest of his life.

Clay offers him a shred of hope. There’s no choice but to take it.

“Honey, you need to eat.”

Finn groans, shaking his head and rolling over.

“Finn,” Poe warns, but his voice is trembling.

“I’ll vomit,” Finn cautions in turn, not moving.

“You’ll spend another six rotations at that medcenter if you don’t eat these crackers.” Finn groans. “You have to eat something.”

“What does it matter?” Finn grumbles, but he pushes himself into a sitting position and takes a cracker from Poe. “I’m there every day anyway.”

Poe sighs, his shoulders slumping. “I try, Finn. Even if you throw it back up.” He sets the remaining two crackers on the bedside table as Finn nibbles the corner of the first one. The pilot pushes himself off their bed, bending down to kiss Finn’s forehead, before he turns from the room and leaves Finn alone.

Finn could almost feel guilty, were he not so nauseous. His stomach does flips; it feels as if he’s constantly holding back vomit, and there’s nothing he can do to change that fact. Perhaps Poe is forcing him to eat for his own good, but there’s a point to be made when Finn is sick at even the smell of food.

His skin itches. Radiation started, leaving him blistered, his skin feverish. His chest and face are swollen, yet his ribs stick through his skin. Finn’s fingers are round and puffy, and they tremble incessantly.

“Hey.”

Finn jumps at the sound, but his heartbeat settles as he turns to see Rey standing in the doorway. Today, he’s well enough to sit up, perched in the living room with blankets nestled around him. Rey, having ventured to Ryndellia alone, is staying on the  _ Falcon  _ for the time being. At the very least, Finn doesn’t have to worry as much about keeping the children preoccupied, for Rey seems content to distract them whenever she can.

Finn misses them. He wishes he could keep up.

Rey’s brow furrows as she moves towards him, sensing his unrest.

“How are you feeling?” She asks, then bites her lip as Finn’s annoyance ripples through the Force. She takes a seat next to him, waiting for his response.

“Tired,” Finn answers, not meeting Rey’s eyes.

“You’re in pain,” she says, and her voice quivers. She reaches out to touch his arm, just above where a fresh patch of blisters has broken out.

“Rey,” Finn knows she’s been assessing him at every available opportunity. They meditate together when Finn wakes every day; desperation and panic leak through the mask of her presence into the space between them. “There’s nothing you can do.”

“You’re angry,” she sounds hurt now, too. “About everything.”

He nods, allowing his eyes to close after glancing around the room to ensure no one else will hear. “I am. I am, Rey,” he sighs, shoulders sagging. “This has to be hell for them. I don’t want their happiness to be in limbo like this anymore.”

Rey’s eyes widen. “What are you going to do?”

Finn meets her gaze. “I don’t know. I’m fighting. I’m trying.”

Her hand covers his. “I know you are, Finn.”

Her love surges in the Force, weaker than Finn’s used to, but still bright and fierce. With a jolt of shock, Finn realizes her presence is fading from his, and he wonders where she’s been in the time between her search and her arrival on Ryndellia.

Finn remembers the voice then, too. Rey’s never mentioned anything like it.

He hums to himself, Rey settling by his side. She tucks her head against his shoulder, and they stay there together for a long while.

Their lives have been irreparably interrupted. Finn decides, at last, to fully step away from work, leaving Jannah in charge during his absence. Poe takes leave, too, so he can care for his family; between Finn and the kids, he’s torn in more directions than he can handle.

More people want to visit them. Poe unsure if that’s even allowed, much less if he could cope with hosting guests. But there’s holos, with people Poe hasn’t even talked to since the war ended, with old friends entirely unsure of what to do or say, and with his own father, who calls every night and does little to calm Poe’s nerves.

None of the doctors manage to say that Finn is improving. Initial tests are promising, but. But it’s still a clinical trial. But they don’t know the long-term effects of the disease and treatment in combination. But the disease is still aggressive. But Finn is now unrecognizable, having lost a third of his body weight and all his hair.

It’s an odd juxtaposition, going from talking with doctors about Finn’s fight for his life, to explaining their circumstances to friends.

Poe isn’t sure if he has hope. A fool’s hope, maybe. Finn has updated his will. He’s mentioned funeral plans more than once.

Poe can do little more than grip Finn’s hands then, pressing a kiss to his knuckles and blinking the tears out of his eyes.

Maybe it’s working. It’s certainly costly, even with no guaranteed chance of survival.

“You can do this,” he’ll tell Finn as yet another dose is transferred into his beloved’s body through the port sewn into his flesh. Poe feeds Finn bland cereal over the course of the next three hours, knowing Finn will vomit it up when they get home, and probably again while he tries to sleep.

“You can do this,” Finn tells Poe, when he’s exhausted and in tears, feeling helpless and stretched thin. Kes calls again, then Rey visits, and Poe doesn’t have answers or good news. He collapses into bed next to Finn, and they weep together.

Walton and Temmin sew a scarf for Finn to wrap around his head, a fierce red and blue that brings color back to his ashen skin. He cries when they give it to him; he didn’t even think to save a lock of his hair. He’s weak, and he’s bald, but his heart soars. He endures a walk around the block, his sons holding him up from both sides, and Finn beams with pride when a stranger, also donned in a scarf, compliments his new accessory.

His children have found a new normal. Finn clings to life, and that too, has become typical.

Their family is a shining light in the darkness and confusion surrounding Finn. All he can do is put one foot in front of the other.

It physically hurts to vomit, which is unfortunate given the frequency with which Finn partakes in this act. His muscles, already sore and atrophying, contract painfully, and he has to spring to the ‘fresher on shaky legs weighted with lead.

Poe rises with him too. Finn nearly wishes he wouldn’t; there’s little comfort to offer someone dry-heaving after the meager contents of his stomach have been emptied. But Poe is ready to wipe his mouth with a wet towel, then assists his husband in brushing his teeth. He helps Finn stand as he cleans up, then wraps an arm around his waist to bring him back to bed

Poe falls asleep quickly, and Finn should too, given the exhaustion that never leaves him, but he hears the voice again.

_ Finn.  _ It’s a woman, gentle and familiar.

Finn swings his legs out of bed, finally steady when he rises. Poe doesn’t stir, left behind but entirely passed out beneath the covers.

He staggers into the hall, leaning against the doorframe to rest. Outside, the lights from the city and buildings around them shine through the transparisteel of their front entrance.

_ Finn. _

Outside, there’s a patch of freshly grown flowers. The first bunch has pushed several inches out of the dirt, but Finn knows that a few more have begun to emerge, barely a bud on the end of a thin stem.

He can feel it, this new life. The start of pristine white flowers, that will make his son smile and his daughter giggle when Temmin tucks it into her curls.

The door opens for Finn. Sure enough, although he’s never laid eyes on them before, new buds have sprung up from the earth.

He sinks to his knees, feeling the freshness of the night air on his skin.

_ Finn.  _ The voice is a happy song. He presses his hand into the dirt in the middle of the flowers. They call to him too, providing a warmth that spreads rapidly in his chest, tingling all the way through his limbs into the tips of his fingers and toes.

Energy hums around him; white surrounds all that he knows.

_ This is the living Force. _

The words have been spoken to him before, when he returned to the jungle on Ajan Kloss. He knows them, understands what they mean.

Finn listens.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I 've dropped the link to my writing playlist! You can listen here: https://open.spotify.com/playlist/7Bc7lmOf2sy02EHKZpgM9J?si=5wls4x0LTgq7A6NBxjpm-w


	8. VIII

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Force may call you home.  
> Finn lies on his back, the machines whirring around him. He’s alone in the dark room. The blinking of the surrounding lights flash behind his closed eyes.  
> Poe had kissed him on the cheek before leaving the medcenter. “I’ll see you at home,” he promised.  
> The path ahead is not yet certain. You are strong, Finn.  
> Finn will see what lies in wait. His future is not yet written.  
> There is a disconnect between his body and his presence in the Force. Even with radiation nearly every single day, during which he meditates if he can, the road forward is foggy.  
> He is alone, for now. Caught hovering between two worlds.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> “I fear nothing. For all is as the Force wills it.” -Chirrut Imwe

_The Force may call you home._

Finn lies on his back, the machines whirring around him. He’s alone in the dark room. The blinking of the surrounding lights flash behind his closed eyes.

Poe had kissed him on the cheek before leaving the medcenter. “I’ll see you at home,” he promised.

_The path ahead is not yet certain. You are strong, Finn._

Finn will see what lies in wait. His future is not yet written.

There is a disconnect between his body and his presence in the Force. Even with radiation nearly every single day, during which he meditates if he can, the road forward is foggy.

He is alone, for now. Caught hovering between two worlds.

 _Force give me strength,_ he prays, but there is silence.

Later, when Walton picks him up, offering an arm to lean on, the Force remains undisturbed and quiet. It’s as if there’s a fog separating him from the rest of the galaxy, one too vast and impenetrable to navigate.

Instead, Finn focuses on his children, who tiptoe around him, laying in wait for him to break. Temmin only serves him watery smiles, and Lynia is too stiff to reveal any sorrow. Only Hera manages to find the light, treating him like her very own patient to take care of.

“I’m helping you,” Hera insists, and Finn cracks open his eyes to grin at his daughter. 

“Okay, honey,” Finn sighs. “You can just set that here.” 

Hera puts the water on the table next to him; she’s dragged it closer to where Finn is lying on the couch. He should get up, he knows: his mouth is parched, but his eyes are weighted with lead.

“Do we have straws?” Hera asks, peering upwards, and Finn realizes that Poe must be standing behind him.

“I’ll grab one.” Finn closes his eyes again, letting darkness surround him. A hand reaches down to cover his shoulders with a blanket.

Once Finn wakes, he discovers another unfortunate truth of radiation. Blisters have spread across his chest, complemented by red-hot skin burning on his arms. He whines when Poe spreads a soothing cream on the damaged skin, his dark eyes intent, but he stays still enough that Poe can work. After a few minutes, the balm, in tandem with the fresh bacta patch over his port, brings relief.

Although he’s limited to chairs and his bed, the children manage to fold him into their lives with little difficulty. First, it’s Temmin bringing him an easel and paintbrush that he seems to have acquired during one of Finn’s visits to the medcenter. Finn, luckily, has accrued patience through meditation, a virtue that Temmin shares. Together, they spend whole afternoons painting. Sometimes, Finn watches his son’s careful strokes, the gentleness he uses to craft the petal of a yellow flower or the strong trunk of a tree. On occasion, he’ll doze off there, mesmerized by the flow of Temmin’s brush. Other times, Finn tries to steady his hands. He paints a rolling ocean, the dark halls of a ship, the leaves of a jungle’s canopy, but nothing compares to his son’s creations.

His two elder children, in turn, are intent on working. Lynia spends most of her days, whenever Finn is adequately settled somewhere, locked in her room, making interplanetary calls. She completes a class on the HoloNet, the name of which Poe has to whisper to Finn several times in gentle reminder. Lynia is not yet sure of her place in the galaxy, but Finn knows she’s restless here, trapped on a world meant only for the sick.

She passes with flying colors, and Hera begs to be taught the same skills her older sister has. Lynia studied social relations most recently, but Hera insists.

“Do you really want to know the first ten rules of handling conflict?”

“Yes!” Hera rolls her eyes. “In case I ever argue with someone!”

Lynia chuckles under her breath but doesn’t let Hera see the smile she gives Poe. Finn sits in on these lessons too, as Hera gets distracted by convors flying by, or a spider crawling along the ceiling. But whenever Lynia asks if her sister is done, the answer is always the same.

“I want to learn. You promised you would teach me.”

Finn smiles. This is the most peaceful part of his day, even if he has to remind Hera to quiet herself once in a while.

Hera maintains that she’ll be the most prepared student when school resumes. It’s something Finn takes at face value, but when Hera remarks that she’s smarter than her other friends on Ryndellia, his heart stops.

“Do they go to school here?” His chest expands painfully, and Hera nods.

“They have a whole class and everything. A ton of them have been going here for years, but they promised that I can have one of their desks, so I can be next to Roma, and Berhaa on my other side…”

The new school term would start in five weeks. Somehow, the thought of being on Ryndellia then is unbearable.

Rey helps where Finn and Poe cannot manage control over their lives. She, ever expanding her interests, takes Walton to trainee medcenters halfway across the planet, and he returns to their apartment with stories of recovered patients, of fascinating incidents and failed operations.

“If you keep this up, you’ll be able to cure me,” Finn says seriously. Walton’s smile drops off his face, and Finn’s cheeks flush.

“He wants to do more local pediatrics,” Rey eases through the silence. “So maybe not, Finn.”

Whatever the case, Walton understands Ryndellia better than Finn ever could. Walton has the mobility and knowledge to set a sprained ankle, to fix a leaking bacta patch, and Finn gets a medical bracelet with his name and condition on it. Poe says it’s for the healers; later the same day, an itemized, color-coded medication capsule arrives and is entrusted to Poe’s care. Apparently, two incidents of forgetting his pills are too many to let Finn take care of himself.

His hair is gone. Finn appears alien, bald and skinny. Even his eyebrows thin and disappear, and Hera makes a thousand wishes on the eyelashes that fall onto his cheeks and don’t grow back. His fingernails split and peel, and he can’t eat, but he does anyway, when Poe or Walton makes him.

Everything in his body hurts. Finn avoids food and he avoids silence, because he’ll get nauseous and all he can think about is wanting to throw up and the pounding of his heart in his ears. He stops telling the doctors that he’s in pain; his chest hurts, his ankles swell, his head throbs, his hands and legs tremble. They all know it, anyway, when Finn cries as they use his port, and he needs to be helped onto the radiation table.

Finn is so tired of pain. It was rare, once, sometimes even pleasurable in the correct circumstances. He was used to it, back in the days of the Resistance, but he became accustomed to a life without hurting.

This is what it felt like to be split in half, Finn once told Poe. It felt as if a blaze of fire ripped into him and everything was cold and hot all at once. The world disappeared, and he was left with iron-hot barbed wire wrapped around his spine, pulling him lengthwise in half. It was inescapable and permanent, and it was everything he had ever known.

This is what it feels like to die, Finn tells Rey. He cannot lift his child high into the air because his muscles ache when he picks her up. His evening walks with his husband on his arm are cut in half, because he cannot make it down the street without being seriously short of breath and he doesn't want Poe to have to carry him home. He’s tired after a day of napping, and he can’t keep his eyes open, even to read just one full page of the report on the new adoption center they want to open on Chandrila. Most of his friends look at him with pity in their eyes, and he might as well be made of glass given the way they treat him. Poe hides the scale that used to be in their bathroom because he is losing weight so fast. His doctor discusses a hoverchair with him, and he finds solace in the fact that Hera might think it’s fun to ride in when Daddy isn’t using it. He can barely eat because the cocktail of medicine injected twice daily into the bruised patch on his arm delaying his ever-approaching demise causes him to lose his appetite. Consequently, his husband begs him to eat more than just a few bites per meal, and Poe tries to disguise the sheen of tears in his eyes because he is trying so hard to be strong for the man he loves. He knows the weight of his own presence in the Force, and he can feel it fading faster every day.

Finn tells this to Rey because he never wants Poe to be burdened beyond the loss he already feels.

Maybe he could handle the suffering, if it were all at once, It might kill him, but it would be quicker. Finn knows he can take the pain; it’s the terrible, inescapable reality of it that he can’t handle, day in and day out.

They do find a hoverchair for him, in the hopes of preserving Finn’s meager strength.

The pain gets worse.

Finn sits up in bed, but his head spins beyond control. Instinctively, he reaches out for Poe, who supports his back and shoves a pillow behind him. When Finn sinks back, exhausted just from the small movement, he distinctly becomes aware of Poe speaking to him. Blood rushes through his ears, deafeningly loud. It’s as if there’s cotton stuffed into his brain, and the world turns over and over.

His chest tightens further. The pounding in his ears continues, a thumping that reverberates through his whole head, making his skull feel too small for the pressure building inside it.

“Finn?” Poe sounds too far away. Finn shakes his head, his eyes closing quickly. Poe speaks again, alarmed.

“I-” Finn can’t fathom what he wants to say. There are hands on his face, against his chest. “My chest hurts-” he blurts, and his head lolls as he fights to stay conscious.

“Hold on, sweetheart.” The world fades in and out. Weakly, Finn reaches for Poe’s hand, grasping it loosely. Poe’s own grip becomes like durasteel, and Finn hears him shouting.

The next few minutes are an incomprehensible blur. There are voices, at first loud, then suddenly hushed. He’s been jostled, and he vomits as he’s loaded onto a stretcher. A whine leaves him at the burning sensation of bile in his nose, but then Poe is talking, his words choked with tears.

Finn distinctly recognizes the cool air of the medcenter, and the crispness of white sheets beneath him. Clay swims in his vision, speaking to Poe, who has his jaw clenched.

He knows that Poe is kneeling by his side, pressing a kiss on the back of his hand when the darkness takes him.

Slurred speech. Weakness, dizziness, fatigue. Swelling, chest pain.

Poe has run over the symptoms again and again since he was nine. They’ve been imprinted in his mind: the signs that his mother was dying, before any of them could realize that fact.

When Finn passes out, unable to string together a sentence, Poe thinks he understands why, enough to act quickly. The paramedics are there in three minutes.

Poe knows what a heart attack is.

Kidney failure, however, seems to be a different ordeal entirely.

There’s still the horrible rush to the medcenter, of getting Finn stabilized and Poe trying to comfort his kids on his way out the door. He’s hyperaware of the ease with which the young doctors move Finn from stretcher to bed as if he weighs nothing, but Poe knows all too well how light Finn is nowadays.

They tell him that Finn is going to recover. Relief sweeps over Poe like a tidal wave, at the same time bitterness rises within him. This is only one crisis in the midst of Poe’s life fragmenting beyond repair.

Finn wakes quickly, though he’s still lost in a haze of pain and medication. Clay explains to him what’s happened, where he is, and how they’ll proceed.

His kidneys are damaged, his blood flow impeded. Vaguely, Poe remembers them mentioning that this too, could be a side effect of treatment. It’s not even Finn’s illness that caused this incident- it’s all they’ve been doing here at the medcenter.

Finn nods, apparently too tired to speak, giving his consent for dialysis. They put him under again; Poe stays in the room as a new team of doctors hooks Finn up to a blood filtration machine.

It’s simple enough. It reminds Poe of all Finn’s other treatments, except this time, they’re taking something out of Finn, too. He watches as the blood leaves his husband’s veins, enters the machine, and gets replenished before it enters Finn’s bloodstream again. He’s familiar with transfusions, which are slower and less complicated. But at least they’re letting Finn sleep through this.

Poe drifts to a place between sleeping and waking in his chair, the uncomfortable ones he’s used to at the medcenter, with cushioning that only makes it worse. The room is still filled with light, and nurses come and go on their regular intervals.

“It’ll be a long night,” one of them says, laying a hand on Poe’s shoulder. He scrubs his face, gazing at the other man, who offers him a cup of steaming tea. Poe recognizes him, although he’s too tired to remember the nurse’s name. He’s exceptionally nice to Hera whenever she visits. “You might want to go home and rest.”

Poe watches Finn, limp and supine on the bed. He’s deathly still, a mask covering his face to ensure oxygen reaches his lungs.

Poe swallows with difficulty. He could stay here, watching blood leave and reenter his husband’s body, or he can go home to his children, who he will have to reassure and comfort with empty words, and Rey, who seems fragile in her grief but extends no shortage of pity to Poe.

“Thank you,” he manages, taking the tea. He doesn’t say anything else, and when the nurse leaves, he’s alone again.

Poe has half a mind to follow in Rey’s footsteps, to set out into the galaxy in search of answers. He could escape the sterile world of Ryndellia, not have to witness Finn being ravaged by medicine and illness alike.

But he can’t leave. He can’t muster the energy to move from his spot by Finn’s side.

He's here now, whatever happens. He's cemented to the spot, stuck on this planet, in this room. He doesn't want the children to see Finn like this, though they're more than accustomed to seeing Finn weak and helpless. But even Lynia and Walton flinch when they catch a glimpse of Finn’s port or bandages.

They had a dream once, of a family that knew only peace and no suffering.

Finn slips away before their eyes.

Poe misses home desperately. More than that, he misses what it was like to wake up with Finn beside him. Despite any lingering tiredness, he would be the light of Poe’s day, responding well to being kissed awake, glad to dedicate his time to their children. He could follow his passions without struggle; that was the life they so carefully crafted for themselves after the war.

Poe shudders involuntarily. Although he had instinctively grabbed his favorite leather jacket before departing home, the medcenter is still cold. He looks at Finn again, still fast asleep, pulled under by medication. Poe wonders if he’s warm enough.

Poe stands, stretching his aching limbs before leaving the room in search of a heated blanket. One of the nurses, who again seems to know him, immediately reassures Poe that of course, Finn can have extra blankets, pressing one into Poe’s hand. She returns to the room shortly after Poe does, spreading another blanket over Finn.

The doctors are there when Finn wakes, carefully bringing him out of rest. A dial is turned, and Finn wakes, his every move monitored and controlled by the treatment team. It takes a considerable amount of time for Finn to come to fully, and he keeps looking at Poe with his brow furrowed, as if he can’t figure out where he is and Poe should know. Finn reaches for Poe’s hand, who clasps it in both of his. Finn is cold, his eyes wild, and Poe gets the impression again that Finn has no awareness of his surroundings. That’s been happening more and more, where Finn wakes in the night, or dozes off during treatment, and Poe has to explain that they’ve left Yavin IV.

Poe presses a kiss to the back of Finn’s hand, then brushes Finn’s cheek.

“You’re safe,” Poe whispers. “Sweetheart, you’re safe.”

Finn’s shoulder sag and Poe says nothing more, but inches closer to his beloved, running his thumb along Finn’s cheekbone. When the other man begins to cry, silent tears slipping down his cheeks, Poe wipes them away.

Slowly though, Finn’s mind clears, and he manages to sit up. The doctors start to ask him a series of questions: what year it is, what planet they’re on, what the name of his youngest son is. Finn is confused by all of these, mumbling wrong answers, save for Temmin’s name.

Then, Finn turns to Poe, asking where the children are. Anxiety fills his voice, but Poe whispers that they too, are safe, waiting for their fathers to come home.

Clay enters, pulling up a chair similar to Poe’s by Finn’s bed. In his usual patient manner, he describes what’s happened and how they’ll move forward. Finn bristles when an entirely new course of action is suggested, involving dialysis again and another cocktail of chemicals to be administered regularly.

His head lolls; he gazes at Poe, focused intensely on Clay, and Finn frowns. Then, after Clay guarantees him an overnight stay at the medcenter, Finn audibly groans. Sighing, he begins a fresh volley of protests about wanting to go home, ignoring Poe’s attempts to shush him.

“Would you like to make this worse?” Finn spits at Poe, pushing his hands away when Poe mentions the children wanting to visit. He mutters a curse under his breath, wincing when the tubes in his chest and arm are strained.

They haggle; Finn can go home tomorrow if he eats a full meal and uses a hoverchair again. Poe can tell how weak he is from the lack of arguments he has against the hoverchair; Finn could almost be relieved with the agreement with the way he relaxes afterward. Still, he treats Poe with an air of haughty silence, offering only a few words to him and Clay both.

Eventually, it’s Rey who calms Finn, sweeping into the room and pressing her forehead against Finn’s. They share a long glance, and annoyance pricks at Poe. These looks have been commonplace for years, yet now, it’s entirely unhelpful, leaving Poe in the dark about his husband’s feelings.

Still, with Finn in her hands, Poe can go home to shower and rest. Temmin watches from the doorway as Walton and Hera cling to him, demanding answers. Only Lynia remains silent, just as observant as her brother, her mouth a firm line.

“He’ll be better soon,” Poe promises Hera, lifting her into his arms. “Daddy is coming home tomorrow.”

Hera is appeased, even if Temmin serves him a skeptical look. Lynia corners him later. “Is this gonna happen again?” Her tone is flat.

Poe bites his lip, exhaling slowly. “They’re taking steps to prevent this.”

Lynia squeezes her eyes shut. “They’ve been doing a lot of that. And you still- you still had to scream for help again.”

“I thought it was worse than it was.” It’s a relative statement, mostly dependent on how quickly Finn’s heart would have stopped.

Lynia grips the edge of the table. “I can’t- I need to know he’s going to be okay.”

“We’re doing everything we can.” Poe grips her shoulders. “He’d never want you to give up hope.”

Her head bows. “I know,” she whispers.

Poe pulls her into a hug. “You’ve been so strong, _mija.”_ He presses a kiss to her temple. “We’re both so proud of you.”

“Thank you, _Pap_ _á,”_ she whispers against him. “I just miss Dad.”

“I know.” Poe’s mouth twists into a frown. “I do too.”

Finn, mustering all of his strength, uses his arms to push himself out of bed, gladly accepting Poe’s hand in the transfer to the hoverchair. Part of him is relieved they’re not making him try and walk even part of the distance, but Poe and another nurse are there to help him into the speeder as well.

When he crosses the threshold into the apartment, Walton and Hera wrap him in their arms, reaching around the hoverchair. Finn’s heart soars at the contact; it’s as if his children were created to fit perfectly into his arms.

Temmin murmurs hello, hovering nervously in the kitchen. Poe puts an arm around him. From the way Lynia can’t look at him, Finn gets the impression that he’s become a bantha in the room.

“Do you want to lie down?” Poe asks quietly, but Finn shakes his head. Instead, he settles in the common room, opting to stay in his chair. Hera curls up with him, and although Lynia quickly disappears, his sons remain in the room too.

“Papa says you had a dialysis?” Temmin’s nose wrinkles at the foreign word.

“Mhmm. They filtered my blood for me.”

“Kidney failure?” Walton asks. He looks pale and tired, his usual healthy glow completely disappeared. Finn wonders when this change occurred.

“Not fully,” Poe shrugs, sitting down next to their oldest son. He and Finn exchange a glance.

“They said not enough blood was getting through my kidneys. Because of…” Finn rubs his forehead.

“...his blood has thinned and he’s not getting sufficient oxygen to his organs or blood flow.” Poe looks at Finn strangely, but Finn only ducks his head, turning away.

“Was it scary?” Hera asks, her eyes wide.

“I don’t remember,” Finn confesses. “All I know is one day I was at home, and the next, I was with Papa in the medcenter.”

Hera stares. “Do you remember _me?”_ She says suddenly, and Finn chuckles, although the sound gets caught in this throat.

“ _Of_ _course_ I remember you,” Finn reassures her. “I could never forget you.” He blinks away the sudden wetness in his eyes.

“We talked before you left.” Temmin murmurs, so quiet Finn can barely hear him. It seems as if there’s more he wants to say, but he doesn’t continue.

Finn tries to recall the conversation, but his memory turns fuzzy beyond the events of the day. There’s still cotton clogging his head, making it impossible to separate dream from reality, story from truth. Poe is still watching him, perhaps expectantly, but Finn doesn’t know what to say. He was taken to the medcenter- two, maybe three days ago? He knows his chest hurt, and he knows he was tired, just like he has been every day for months.

“You didn’t cause any trouble without me, did you?” Finn jokes, because he can’t sort through the disasters in his mind any longer.

Walton shakes his head. “We just waited.”

Finn drops his head into his hands, then he hears Poe sigh to himself.

“I missed you,” Finn mutters, which is mostly true. When he was actually awake and lucid, he mostly hoped that the children would never have to see him so helpless.

“What are they going to do next?” Walton’s voice has a steely edge to it.

“They’ll adjust medications and see how to go from there.” Poe answers for Finn, who still doesn’t look up. “We’ll decide how to move on in a few rotations.”

“We’re at a crossroads.” Clay serves the two men a serious stare, but there are dark circles under his eyes. Poe feels his heart clench, and he takes Finn’s hand.

“We can continue to treat you on this current course,” Clay says, and Poe sees Finn grab the side of his hoverchair. “But there are still no guarantees. And after that,” Clay shifts forward in his seat, his tone dangerously gentle, “there’s nothing we can do. Finn, I know we’ve talked about these options, but now is the time to decide. I’m very sorry.”

Poe chokes back a cry, letting his eyes close. His grip on Finn’s hand is iron.

When Poe opens his eyes a moment later, he’s blinking back tears. Finn is staring at the doctor, his chin raised, and understanding passes between them.

“No,” Poe gasps, releasing Finn’s hand. His words are upset, but more strangled than loud. “No!” He stands, his chair toppling over. Poe rounds on his husband, his eyes wide. _“Finn!”_

Finn gazes up at him. His eyes are lined with darkness, bloodshot and exhausted, details made all the more clear by his lack of eyelashes and eyebrows. His cheeks are hollow; Poe can see his jawline and collarbone jutting out from his thinned and bruised skin.

There are tears running down Poe’s face, and his body goes numb. He can taste salt on his lips. Finn watches Poe, tears welling in his eyes, but nothing in his expression changes.

“I’m ready, Poe.” Finn’s voice is so flat, it’s nearly bored, hushed and firm. “I can’t fight anymore.”

Dizziness overwhelms Poe, and he reaches out for the support of his chair, which Finn rights without comment. Cold hands find his, and Poe sobs at the contact.

“I need you,” Poe whimpers.

“I’m sick,” Finn protests, frustrated. “It’s killing me, Poe.”

“I’m sorry,” Poe whispers, shaking his head. 

“That I can’t fight any longer?”

“That you want to give up, _c_ _ariño_ _.”_

Finn’s jaw hardens. “I’ve fought harder than hell.”

“We can do more! It’s not over!”

“Isn’t this enough?!” Finn gestures to himself, to the port and drain protruding from his flesh, and the hoverchair holding him. _“I’m in pain, Poe.”_ He hisses, and the first tears spill over. “I don’t want to hurt anymore,” he pleads.

Poe heaves a breath, preparing to retaliate, but his head is spinning. Before he can speak, Clay cuts in. 

“We have time to discuss, gentlemen.” He exchanges another glance with Finn. “If you’d like, I can explain the details of both palliative care and further treatment with you. Then I encourage you to talk about these options over the next couple of rotations.”

Poe can’t look at Finn, but he nods tersely. Clay describes more treatment, more radiation, longer stays at the medcenter, how they’ll keep Finn in decent enough condition to move forward. Poe finds himself nodding along, but his heart still pounds in his chest.

Then, Clay says, should they choose palliative care, they’ll keep Finn comfortable. Finn asks if he could return to Yavin IV, and Clay approves the idea. The doctor depicts how Finn’s body has been ravaged, how his appetite and hair and clarity of mind might return before the end. Poe’s hands curl into fists, and he realizes he’s shaking, every word like a punch in the gut.

Clay stops talking. “Why?” Poe asks, his chest constricted. He barely has the strength to say the single word.

“Finn, do you mind if I talk to Poe alone?”

When Finn indicates he doesn’t, Clay shakes his hand, promising to see him in two rotations.

“I don’t understand,” Poe says when they’re alone. His voice is broken.

“Why he doesn’t want to continue treatment?”

“Why this happened at all.”

Clay swallows. “There’s no reasonable explanation. Bad things happen to good people, and sometimes there’s no way around that.”

Poe thinks of Finn, his darling, lovely husband, and the father of his children. He remembers his mother, who survived a war and retired only to die years later. He thinks of Snap, just married, as good of a pilot as any of the others who returned to Ajan Kloss. He thinks of L’ulo, who lived through one war but not another.

“I know,” he says roughly.

“Finn is in an immense amount of pain,” Clay says, and Poe levels a glare at him.

_“I know.”_

Clay inclines his head in acknowledgment. “He’s in a different place. After a while, it becomes easier to accept whatever lies ahead. Even if we don’t fully understand the decision, respecting it is the first step.”

“Toward what?”

Clay sighs, and he finally seems noticeably sad. “Towards accepting what Finn believes to be best for him.”

Poe tries his best to remember these words as he helps Finn home, as he looks his children in the eye and kisses them goodnight. He changes Finn’s bandages and coaxes a few bites of food down his throat. Finn remains impassive and silent, but on the few occasions when he meets Poe’s gaze, his eyes shine with tears. As angry as Poe is, as helplessly frustrated as he feels, guilt wells inside him, like a flame slowly burning away his conviction.

But a realization strikes Poe, and resentment boils within him again. It takes him an hour after the house is silent to clamber into bed. He turns his back to Finn, but the other man wakes nonetheless.

“I love you,” Finn mumbles, reaching out to rub Poe’s back. “I’m not giving up, Poe.”

Poe flops on his back, disregarding the words. “You talked to Clay about stopping treatment, didn’t you? Before today.”

Finn goes silent; Poe waits a beat to hear him breathe. “Didn’t you?” The anger in his tone is carefully measured.

“I think it’s a losing battle.”

“No one has ever said that.”

“Look at me,” Finn pleads. Poe closes his eyes and sees a myriad of scars covering Finn’s form, the prominence of his ribs, and the thinness of his skin.

“You’re giving up.”

“I’m not giving up.” Finn sounds more sad than angry. Poe huffs, rolling his eyes. “I’m just moving on,” Finn whispers, and Poe’s heart sinks. A retort rises in his throat, but Finn speaks again.

“I don’t ever want to leave you,” Finn confesses, but Poe doesn’t respond. After a while, Finn sighs, turning over in bed. Poe listens to Finn’s labored breathing deepen, until he is sure Finn is asleep again.

 _Save him,_ Poe thinks, staring up at the ceiling. A tear traces down his cheek. _If anyone can hear me,_ Poe burrows his face into a pillow, shuddering. _Save him._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know this has been a taxing read, guys. Thank you for sticking with me. I’ve said it before, but this is a painfully cathartic experience for me. As much as it hurts, this is what I needed to read a long time ago- to know that I wasn’t alone in feeling this kind of pain.  
> 


	9. IX

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Look at you. I’ve so much to tell you.” -Galen Erso

Poe wakes in a typical fashion, with his husband rocketing out of bed on unsteady feet to run to the ‘fresher to vomit. His eyes are open and sleep is gone in the same instant as Poe follows Finn hurriedly.

Sick splatters on the tile of the refresher, Finn failing to make it to the lavatory in time. Sidestepping the vomit, immune to such a sight this far into treatment, Poe joins Finn on the floor, stabilizing the other man with an arm around Finn’s shoulder, using his free hand to rub circles into his back.

Finn retches again, and Poe winces. “It’s alright, sweetheart,” he lies. They both know it means nothing, but Poe has nothing to do otherwise, and Finn, in the small, isolated part of his mind that isn’t taken up by nausea and pain, appreciates the gesture.

When the nausea has passed, they sit in silence, the smell of bile filling their nostrils. Finn spits, eyes streaming with tears.

“I’m done, Poe,” he says, sounding so, so tired. “I want to go home.”

The ever-familiar lump of grief wells in Poe’s throat again. “Okay,” he whispers, choked. “Okay.” They will talk about it again in the morning, he knows, but the outcome of the conversation is clear. Finn has made his choice, whether he likes it or not.

Poe’s head aches. Exhaustion hasn’t fully dissipated from his mind, and Finn’s words weigh down his heart.

His shoulders sag, but Poe drapes an arm around Finn.

Vaguely, Poe thinks that none of this can be real. There’s no future without Finn beside him. But he wipes the spit and bile off of Finn’s chin then pulls his husband to his feet. Finn assures him that he’s done vomiting, though Poe places a bin next to his side of the bed. Finn’s eyes are closed by the time Poe kisses his forehead, but Poe can’t join him yet. He cleans the sick off the floor of the refresher, wiping down the tile. It smells, as always, of bleach and sickness.

When he’s done, Finn lets Poe curl his arms around him, finally returning to the familiar embrace. Finn relaxes into Poe, his back against Poe’s chest.

There have been few serious arguments in their marriage. Sure, there were plenty of times where they were both too stubborn to back down, or admit fault, or someone exploded over something small, but silent-treatment type disagreements have been rare.

Finn dying, Poe supposes, is an occasion that warrants tension.

All at once, the reality of what that truly means catches up with Poe. Sleeping alone in their oversized bed, needing extra blankets to compensate for the lack of warmth beside him. Having no one to kiss, no hand to hold, no one to smile at when one of the kids does something particularly adorable or impressive. His best friend, his greatest confidant, his co-general. His other half, gone. Unreachable by space or time, for year after lonely year, until Poe too, fades away to nothingness.

Poe sobs once, his entire body convulsing. Finn reaches out, clasping Poe’s hand in both of his and pressing a kiss to his knuckles.

The tears run down Poe’s nose and drip onto the pillowcase, slowly soaking the fabric through. He’s shaking, and Finn grips him tighter.

“I love you,” Finn promises, his voice small. Poe’s sobs are muffled by flesh and cloth, and even after they subside, it takes a long time for sleep to take him.

In the morning, Finn is awake before Poe. It’s unusual, but the other man is sitting up, his legs swung over the side of the bed.

Poe kisses his shoulder, wraps his arms around his husband. Finn kisses his hand, bowing his head to reach.

“Is this what you want?” Poe’s voice is small, deathly serious.

“I don’t want to suffer anymore.”

“And you’re- you’re sure that you want to stop treatment?”

“I’m sure.” Finn sounds like he is, at least. “I just knew that it was over, Poe. There were so many things that could go wrong, so many ways this could end… but I knew. I’m not afraid anymore.”

“I can’t lose you,” Poe murmurs.

“You won’t.” Poe is sure Finn doesn’t mean the contradiction; it doesn't fit into their conversation. “This is the right thing, Poe. I promise.”

“I love you,” Poe says, because he knows that’s true.

“I love you too.”

They tell Clay first, because they’re stalling. On the day Finn decides, neither of the fathers can look their children in the eye. Lynia tenses, perhaps bracing herself for yet another blow, but all parts of their lives are steeped in sorrow. To grieve in their household is like breathing; a perpetual state of existence with no reasonable end in sight.

Clay apologizes again. Shakes their hands. However, he seems more relaxed now, less frazzled in the hopeless search for answers. Poe thinks to himself that Clay might be more in his element with a patient that will certainly die, rather than one fighting to live. It’s easier to make a plan, anyhow.

“How do we tell them?” Finn murmurs into Poe’s side. They’re watching the children, all four, soak up the sun in the street. Walton’s reading, but the other three are entertaining themselves, drawing on the duracrete and playing on their own.

“We’re just going home,” Poe sighs, swiping at his eyes. Finn turns to him, pulling Poe’s lips to his. His beard, peppered with gray, tickles Finn’s chin. Finn smiles against his mouth, unable to stop the joy bubbling inside him. Even here, at the end of all things, he’s glad to be in Poe’s arms. “And you-”

“I’m tired of fighting,” Finn says. “The treatment isn’t helping like it should be.”

Poe takes Finn’s hand, resting his chin on Finn’s shoulder. “All of us together?”

Finn leans against Poe. “Together,” he agrees.

“The treatment isn’t working like it should,” Poe says. Walton buries his face in his hands; Temmin sobs beside him before he’s encircled into Finn’s arms. “Dad and I want to return home.” The words are robotic, forced out of his mouth like they’re poison. Poe tries to detach them from their meaning. They’re just words. His kids are all that matters.

Lynia stands. Poe nearly misses the initial movement, lost in his other children’s reactions. Before he can even open his mouth, she’s gone, striding out the door into the open day. Poe makes eye contact with Finn, who only shakes his head, his face ashen and drawn. It feels as if his heart has turned to metal. It’s heavy now, sinking deep into his stomach. 

“What’s gonna happen then?” Hera’s voice is trembling; she draws away from the rest of her family, looking around at the scene. “Daddy, what’s gonna happen?!”

Finn reaches out for her, and she staggers into his arms, peering up at him. “Baby, I’ve been really sick. They can’t help me anymore, honey.”

“Are you gonna die?” Her lower lip quivers, a stray tear tracing down her cheeks. Neither Finn nor Poe answer her, and her breath starts to leave her in quick succession. Her face screws up as she begins to bawl, then sobs overtake her, wretched and loud. Poe watches, both arms now around his sons, as Finn tries to shush Hera, rocking her back and forth. He begs her to breathe and find some calm, but their daughter has become unreachable, terrified and upset.

Poe doesn’t think he’s ever seen her cry this hard. She’s their sunshine, their happy little girl, who hasn’t yet understood enough to weep like her older siblings. It’s wrong, as wrong as the rest of the situation is, and Poe is reminded of a nine-year-old boy, so many years ago, wailing as the foundations of his life were ripped from under him.

“Take a deep breath, baby,” Finn whispers, rubbing her back. Hera curls up on Finn’s lap, her face buried in his shirt. She’s gasping for air, the sounds of her cries filling the room. Poe’s fingers curl in the fabric of his pants, and he forces himself to exhale.

“Did they try everything? There’s nothing they can do?” Walton’s words are quiet, stunted by disbelief. 

“It’s been a losing battle,” Poe admits. His tone shakes. Walton purses his lips, scrubbing at his eyes.

“How long have you known?”

“We’ve been talking about it with the doctors for a few days. We decided this together.” He’s robotic again. This is easier.

“And we’ll go home? How long-” Walton’s voice breaks. “How long after that does he have?”

“They’re going to keep him comfortable. They’re hoping for a few months.”

Walton takes an uneven breath before squeezing his eyes shut. Under his arm, Temmin shudders, hiding his face in Poe’s shirt. The father draws his arms around his son, resting his chin on the top of Temmin’s head.

“We’re in this together. All we’re doing is going home,” Poe says. Walton breathes through his nose heavily, then nobody says anything more.

Eventually, when Hera’s sobs don’t subside, Finn lifts her into his arms, stumbling under her weight. He makes it into the girls’ bedroom, and the house starts to quiet.

Temmin still hasn’t said anything. Poe waits until there’s silence; Walton leaves his side and disappears into his own room.

“I’m right here, baby,” Poe tells him, and Temmin nods. He doesn’t meet Poe’s eyes or open his mouth. “Do you wanna be alone?” Temmin shakes his head.

“Okay,” Poe murmurs. “Okay.” 

Tears threaten to spill over. Poe sniffs loudly, scrubbing at his eyes. He won’t cry now, not in front of Temmin. He has plenty of time to grieve later. Poe’s sure he’ll spend the rest of his life doing exactly that.

They sit together in the relative silence of the room. Temmin wiggles in Poe’s embrace until he’s freed, shifting towards the end of the sofa opposite from Poe. They sit together, Temmin’s face pressed into his knees, Poe watching him and tapping his foot rhythmically. Neither father nor son move until Finn emerges from the hall.

“Hera passed out. She needs to be alone,” Finn says in a low voice. Poe inclines his head in acknowledgment, rising to hug Finn.

“Lynia?” Finn asks, and Poe shrugs.

“We’ll give her time,” Poe exhales. “She’s an adult. She’ll come back to us.” Finn arches his eyebrow. “She’s an adult, right?”

Finn sighs, burying his face in the crook of Poe’s neck. “She just needs time.”

“I know,” Poe murmurs. “Don’t we all.” He lets his eyes close, exhausted although it’s not yet midday. He wants to protect his children, desperately, but there’s no hiding from this news. If Finn’s comfort is the biggest priority, then they go home, back to the world they’re used to. And if the great, horrible, looming change in their lives does occur, then at least the children will have Kes as well as Poe. At least they’ll have their friends and a familiar moon to stay on.

“This is the right thing, right?” Finn breathes. “Telling them?”

“It’s better they know,” Poe asserts, sounding moderately sure of himself. “They have to know.”

“Okay.” A crease forms in Finn’s brow. He glances to Temmin, but their son is turned away. “I didn’t want to do this to them,” he whispers in Poe’s ear. Poe clutches him closer, swaying them both in the shared embrace.

“I know, baby. But it’s not...” Poe searches for the right words, pulling back to wipe the tears from Finn’s cheeks. “It’s not hanging over our heads anymore, Finn. If there’s only one outcome for what happens next, then we can plan for that.”

Finn smiles, sad and aching. “You and me,” he says softly. Poe tilts his head, the barest suggestion of a smile pulling at the corner of his lips, though his eyes remain mournful.

“You and me,” he agrees, holding Finn tighter in his arms.

Lynia returns in less than an hour, her hair free and mussed about her head. Her eyes are dry, but her face is blotchy and her knuckles red. She lets Poe hug her, but she barely looks at Finn. Upon learning that Hera is asleep, Lynia retreats, until it’s just Poe, Finn, and Temmin alone again.

Walton emerges first, in due time. His eyes are ringed with red, his clothes wrinkled, but he holds himself with some semblance of composure.

“When are we leaving?” He asks, voice small and strained.

“Soon. After there’s time to pack and talk with the doctors.”

“What’s palliative care going to look like?”

“Just pain management, honey.” Finn sounds exhausted. Walton can’t meet his gaze. “I’ll be on meds, but less. Just so it doesn’t hurt.”

“So no more stuff for like, blood pressure? Or iron?”

Finn takes Walton’s hand, guiding him to the kitchen, away from Temmin. “How much do you wanna know?” He asks quietly, and Walton blanches.

“Enough,” he says after a pause. “I need to know what to expect.”

“Okay,” Finn takes a slow breath, then begins. “They’re done with radiation and inpatient treatment. Then they’ll ease me off all other medications until I’m on my own.”

Finn continues, watching Walton carefully for the duration of his explanation. Walton’s expression settles into steel, squeezing his eyes shut to prevent tears from escaping at several points. Each time, Finn delicately asks if it’s too much, if he should stop, but Walton just shakes his head.

“Will it- how has it spread, for them to halt treatment?”

“It’s in my kidneys,” Finn says, “but you knew that. It’s in my immune system, it’s in my liver, and it’s in my lungs.” Walton hisses through his teeth, gasping as tears roll down his cheeks. Finn clutches his hand again. “They’ve been fighting really hard to keep it out of my nervous system and brain, and heart,” he confesses. “And that worked, but not enough.”

“How will it happen?” Walton’s question is so quiet, so rushed, Finn barely hears.

“I don’t know.” His tone rises a pitch, and Finn tries to remember to breathe. “They tell me organ failure. It’ll just-” Finn can’t finish. Both of Walton’s hands are clasped in his, and Walton sobs openly. Finn moves around the table to hug him, an embrace that his son accepts, leaning against Finn,

“I know it’s hard,” Finn tells him, pushing past the creeping doubt that he’s making a gross understatement. “Papa and I are here for you. Aunt Rey and  _ Abuelo  _ are here for you. And you can always ask more questions, okay?”

Walton hiccups, but he nods, remaining in Finn’s arms for a long while. When Hera appears, he pulls his little sister into his lap, accepting the hot chocolate Poe makes for them all.

It’s almost calm then, aside from the crying and the grief. Finn and Poe ensured that the day was cleared, that the family would be able to process the news on their own. Still, Finn waits for Rey to visit, as she does every day, and he tenses as he senses her nearing.

Rey steps through the threshold and freezes, looking from Hera, slumped at the table with hot cocoa cradled in her hands, to Finn, with Walton leaning into his side, face miserable.

Grief overtakes her confusion almost instantaneously. Her eyes lock with Finn’s, imperceptibly sad, and tears well over, slipping down her cheeks.

“Let’s go for a walk,” Finn says, rising. He meets Rey, taking her arm. When they disappear together through the door, Rey is still studying his face, her own features marred with sorrow.

Lynia maintains her silence into the next day, ignoring Finn’s attempts to talk, He lets her end the conversations bluntly, sits back when she pushes him aside. She’s packed her things in a matter of hours after waking, speaking to Poe only to ask for instructions on where to move things. The apartment is slowly emptied again, the signs of life disappearing with the pictures on the walls. 

Temmin spends hours in the garden, his packing unstarted. He writes down the names of flowers and plants, carefully documenting which ones he wants to return to Yavin with him. But when Finn peers over his shoulder, he sees the detailed instructions inscribed on the flimsi, to be left behind for the inhabitants that follow the Dameron family.

Most of their time spent together lapses into silence. Walton cries quietly when he thinks his parents aren’t looking, and Hera downright refuses to leave Finn’s side. But it’s Lynia who’s the worst, who seems entirely beyond comfort. Their gentle words and offers for hugs are rejected outright. The day is winding down, Lynia having been unable to muster any conversation with anyone else, when Finn hears something shatter in the kitchen. Poe is on his feet before anyone can react, and he bends down to help Lynia gather the pieces of the broken plate off the floor.

“I got it,” Lynia mutters. She levels a glare at Poe. “I can do it.”

“Sweetheart,” Poe’s tone is so soft, it makes Lynia physically wince. “ _ Mija,  _ let me help, please.”

“I don’t need your help,” Lynia spits. “I can do this.”

“I know, baby,” Poe says, but Lynia swats his hand away. He looks at her face, beyond the veil of curls obscuring her features. Thick tears roll down her cheeks, then there’s a horrible moment of silence.

_ “Kriff,”  _ Lynia continues with a string of particularly nasty curses. Her finger is bleeding, a brilliant red stream running down her hand and dripping onto the floor.

“Lynia,” Poe tries. He’s not sure if he should stem the blood or wipe the tears away.

_ “Kriff,”  _ she says again vehemently, then stands, grabbing a towel and wrapping it around her hand. Her shoulders heave, and she shudders, turning away from Poe.

Poe reaches out, resting a hand on her shoulder, but Lynia shrugs him off. Her eyes are bright and shining when she whips around to stare at him.

_ “I’m fine,”  _ she hisses. Poe flinches, cringing when he hears her door shut and lock.

Finn materializes behind him. “We need to talk to her,” he says, gaze fixed on the room Lynia’s disappeared into. He sighs, rubbing his temples, then raises Poe’s hand to his mouth and kisses it.

They wait outside her room together. “Honey, Papa and I need to talk to you.” Silence. “Lynia, this is important.”

Finn and Poe stand at the door for a full minute. Then two. “I need to see if your finger’s okay,” Finn insists. There’s a hint of annoyance creeping at the edges of his words. “If you open the door, we can figure this out.”

The door slides open and Lynia staggers back. Her face is red and twisted as if she’s in pain. The towel wrapped around her hand is nearly soaked through with blood. Poe goes to her first, retrieving a bacta patch and cleaning the wound. Finn watches, combing his daughter’s hair out of her face.

“You need to tell us how to help you,” Finn says, brow furrowed. “I know it’s hard. I know it’s confusing. But we can’t help each other if you’re not talking to us.”

“I don’t want help,” Lynia says. Poe bites his tongue.

“We’re in this together, sweetheart,” he reminds her. “Dad and I want to be there for you.”

“Well that’s going to change in a few months, isn’t it?” Lynia scoffs. A few more tears escape from her eyes. “Dad won’t be around anymore.”

Finn closes his eyes, sinking down on Lynia’s bed. “We have time, Lynia.”

“Not enough. Not enough for you to be there. You won’t get to see me move, or Walton become a doctor- or- or Hera and Tem finish school.”

“I want to be,” Finn sounds angry, but his voice quickly breaks. “Honey, more than anything in the universe, I want to be there for you. All the way.”

“You won’t be.” Lynia’s voice quivers. “I need you and you’re going away.” She buries her face in her hands. “I don’t understand-” She cuts off, sobbing. Poe attempts to bring her into a hug, but she pushes him away.

“Don’t touch me!” She’s loud now, blazing. “Don’t get near me, don’t touch me, don’t help me!”

“Lynia, I know it’s hard. I know better than anyone how difficult this is, but you can’t shut us out. We’re a family-”

Lynia barks out a laugh, strange and cruel. “‘We’re a family.’ I used to have one of those.” She tips back her head, glaring at the ceiling. Her hands curl into fists. “What was the point?” Lynia is yelling now, as angry as Poe’s ever seen her. Her breath hiccups as tears run down her cheeks. “I’ve lost two families! I’ve lost everything!”

“You haven’t,” Finn tries to soothe, moving towards her. 

“No- no!” She’s still weeping, nearly hyperventilating and she turns away from them. “I had ten years with you, and I got to be a part of this family, but you’re going to  _ die  _ and everything’s going to change.”

Poe rises, a retort freezing on his tongue. He’s not sure if he’s angry or simply devastated- likely something in between- but Finn is quicker, and he wraps Lynia in his arms. She sags at the contact, falling to pieces.

“We have you,” Finn whispers. “Oh, honey, I know. I know. But if you think that- Poe is still gonna be there. And Walton, and Tem and Hera? Are they still gonna be your family?”

Lynia trembles in his arms, hiding her face in Finn’s shoulder. “They’re my family. You’re my family.” She inhales shakily. “But I can’t let you go. I can’t do that.”

“We’ll be here,” Finn says. “All of us are in this together.”

“You’re so strong, sweetheart,” Poe adds, rubbing Lynia’s back. “I won’t tell you it’s not gonna be hell, but you keep moving. It gets easier.” His breath hitches; Poe catches Finn’s eye. Tears blur his vision, but Poe tries to steady himself.

He’s still alive, after all. His father managed to get out of bed most days after Shara died. They endured.

Fragile is not a word Poe would ever use to describe their daughter. In all the years he’s known her, she has never been so dangerously close to breaking. When they first met her, so long ago, it took not months, but years for Lynia to become comfortable in their home. She wanted to be there, but she struggled with things like eye contact. Like laughter louder than a quiet chuckle, or the sounds of Hera crying at night. She would flinch when they tried to hug her.

She’s quiet now, jumpy and withdrawn. Poe knows Lynia, has watched her grow from an unflinching ex-trooper into a compassionate, resilient young woman.

Poe has been to war. He’s been tortured, too. He knows what it looks like when someone becomes broken.

Poe loves his family, unconditionally. Something between them has shattered, and there is not a moment of his day where he forgets that he’s living the fragmented remains of his life.

Finn sleeps fitfully beside him. The pain is spreading, he says, but not worse. Additionally, the nausea is slowly stopping. Poe accepts this as a small victory amongst all the madness. He wakes up, asks Finn how he feels, and helps his husband get dressed. He helps the kids pack their things; there is nothing left to do but sit around and cry or prepare to leave. They all seem to be balancing these activities relatively well.

As a true credit to his virtues, Finn appears to be the calmest amongst them. He’s more patient than Poe, ready and waiting with hugs and smiles. The children never leave his side, if they can help it, so meals and packing are done as a complete family unit.

It’s watching Finn, carefully observing the progress he makes and the clarity of his mind, that allows Poe to move forward. If Finn is not in as much pain as he used to be, then Poe can say goodbye to Ryndellia.

There’s something like hope amid it all. It must be Finn’s doing. It’s been three days after they stopped treatment, and Finn has finally been treated for the radiation burns covering his skin. The bacta works wonders.

“Poe,” Finn murmurs, raising his arms. “No blisters.” He smiles widely, relief spreading across his face. That had been their losing battle for weeks now; applying bacta in the rotation or so that Finn wasn’t being treated. When the bacta came off, and radiation started again, his skin would be left in even worse condition than before.

Finn’s eyes are clear, too. Brilliant and sparkling and usually teeming with more love than pain.

They’re just going home, Poe tells himself. He can do that much. He can put things in crates and he can fly to Yavin IV. 

After that, Poe doesn’t know what to do. He doesn’t know if he’ll ever be able to accept what comes next.

They set a date, approved by Finn’s treatment team, to depart. Poe and Finn go to the daycenter, to the people who have helped look after their children on Ryndellia. Poe lets Hera promise to keep in touch. In a few month’s time, she’ll need peers who understand her grief.

On their last night on Ryndellia, they sit in one of the dingy cafeterias meant for recreational purposes. It’s nearly empty, save for a few droids and one other family, but the Damerons commemorate their last moments on the planet.

“I got one of every dessert they had,” Poe says, setting a platter down on the table. There are pastries and cakes Finn’s never seen before, but nobody moves to grab one. Finn nudges Hera gently.

“Take your pick, sweetheart.”

Hera shakes her head. There are dark circles under her eyes.

“I don’t think we can go.” Her voice cracks. “We can’t leave until Daddy is better.”

“Honey,” Finn breathes, wrapping an arm around her. “We talked about this, sunshine.” He swallows past the lump in his throat. “I want to go home again. I miss the forest. I need to be there.”

“I don’t want to go home,” Hera mutters, not meeting his eyes. “Not if it means you’re going to die.”

Silence. Finn looks to Poe helplessly. Walton is staring at the table with tears streaming down his face, and Lynia’s hands are clenched in her lap. Temmin has curled into Poe’s side.

“We’re going home,” Finn says firmly. “I’m tired, and I- I-” Finn shuts his eyes, inhaling deeply. “-I miss it there. I want to be someplace familiar, with people I know.”

Poe glances at Finn. Nobody has spoken of Yavin IV in days. None of the children have demonstrated any want to go back to the place where they were raised.

“I know it’s difficult.” Finn’s voice has a steel edge to it. “I know it’s sad. But I need you all to trust me.” His words waver; Finn blinks tears out of his eyes. “Don’t think that there’s any universe where I would have given up willingly. There isn’t a reality where I didn’t fight for- for…” Finn struggles for the words, breathy and upset. “-for all of you. Where I didn’t try my damndest to stay.”

Lynia bursts into tears. Finn sighs, and wipes his eyes.

Poe’s bed is empty. It’s cold and too big, illuminated by moonlight. There’s so much space next to him.

He reaches out to find nothing and no one there. Even the familiar indent in the mattress, the extra blanket just for Finn- they’re gone.

Poe rises. His beard is tangled, long against his chest. The house is cold, too. Finn always used to keep it so warm.

The hallway is dark and empty. The children won’t be up. Lynia was the early riser, and now she’s off-planet. Gone.

Poe sighs, making caf without having to think about what he’s doing. He spares a long glance at the kettle, but there’s no one to boil water for. Even Walton has started to drink caf now, given all the long days he pulls.

It’s raining, a constant and relentless pounding on the roof. Kes won’t be happy. He hates it when the ground turns to mud and farming becomes nearly impossible.

The trees and vines are whipped by the wind. It used to scare Finn, Hera and Temmin too, to see the violence of the rainstorms. None of them had ever quite experienced weather like this. The jungle was still strange and full of danger to those raised on First Order starships.

Poe plays with the band around his finger. He has no husband, anymore, but he still looks like a married man. Lightning crackles outside, flashing in the windows, and-

Poe bolts awake, breath heaving. Sweat trickles down his back, and distinctly, Poe is aware of tears on his cheeks. Beside him, Finn stirs, still mostly asleep.

He takes a quivering breath. A life without Finn... If they leave Ryndellia, Poe might be able to see it. He’ll be one step closer to the rest of his life without Finn.

Poe sobs. It’s unabashedly loud, but Poe couldn’t quiet himself if he tried. Finn sits up, his hands grounding Poe.

“Are you alright?”

Poe shakes his head. “Don’t leave me. Please don’t go,” he sobs, and Finn clutches him close, wrapping his arms around Poe.

“Please don’t make me promise that,” Finn says in response, and Poe cries harder still.

Even after Poe quiets, calmed by Finn’s platitudes and embrace, Poe doesn’t sleep that night. Finn drifts off, and Poe holds him until the sun rises.

Their last meeting with the team at the medcenter comes hours before their departure. Clay sits across from them in his office, and Finn and Poe hold hands as they listen to the doctor talk. It’s mostly business, a harddrive of files to give to the medcenter on Yavin, with a copy for their own records. They go over palliative care again, and although Poe grips Finn’s hand tighter, he listens to the other man speaking. Or, he at least tries to.

They emerge from the hall to see an assembly of nurses and other doctors. Poe recognizes many, knows most of their names, but Finn knows them all and hugs each being. There are tears, mingled with laughter and well-wishes and goodbyes. Prayers and hopes and admirations all mixed in. Some nurses press gifts into their hands; a batch of cookies from a cherished family recipe, a blanket for Hera, a book on medical cases for Walton. There’s a tiny, budding plant for Temmin, and a holo about diplomacy and political studies for Lynia. They’re escorted to the front entrance, where Poe wraps an arm around Finn, and they say their final goodbyes.

“Finn,” Clay says, his expression somber. “Poe.” He shakes each of their hands. “I’m so sorry for the circumstances. If there’s anything I can help you or your Yavin team with, please just let me know.”

Finn thanks him, first for the offer, then he looks Clay in the eye and thanks him again. As much as Finn hated their meetings, his visits to the medcenter, Clay tried his best, stood his ground in a losing battle. He takes Clay in; his wrinkled tunic and coat, the gray at the edges of his temples.

“Thank you,” he says, and means it.

Clay ducks his head. “Finn, I am truly, truly sorry that we couldn’t do enough for you. But in fact, you are the first patient we’ve ever had this much progress with for your condition. Some of what you did here was groundbreaking.”

“So it’ll help?” Poe interrupts. “Other people, it’ll help them?”

Clay bobs his head. “We’re still analyzing our studies. But it’s promising, at least on a relative basis. Thanks to you, Finn,” he finishes. “And your family.”

  
  


* * *

“ _ Pap _ _ á _ _ , nosotros volvimos a casa.” _

It rains when they return to Yavin. Poe deposits Hera out of his lap, trying to concentrate on navigating through the trees. Water pours from the sky in sheets, beating against the windshield and lashing through the jungle.

There’s a light on far below. Poe glances at the nav computer; it can only be his father’s house, given their coordinates. Poe drops the cruiser closer to the tops of the trees, looking between the navigation devices and the earth below them for guidance.

He spots the clearing before the computer indicates they’re home, and although Poe doesn’t need to see to make this landing, he lets autopilot take over after initiating the landing sequences.

“We’ll unload later,” Poe tells Lynia and Walton quietly, gazing at Finn and Hera, entangled and fast asleep.

Lynia is the first down the ramp, forging ahead with BB-8 to unlock their home. Walton and Temmin follow, clinging to each other. Walton raises his jacket over their heads in an attempt to shelter them both, but Poe is already half soaked just standing in the hold. Hera is mostly asleep still, locked in his arms, Finn leaning on him for support.

He’s entirely drenched after the short walk from the ship to the front entrance, but Lynia is already waiting with towels, wrapping one around Finn and guiding him to the bedroom. In turn, Poe is left to care for Hera, although she’s awake now, shivering and wet.

She showers while he sets out a pair of pajamas **,** dusting off her bedside table then tucking her in. Hera falls back asleep almost immediately, her death grip on Poe’s hand relaxing.

Finn is waiting for him, doused in moonlight, drowsy but awake.

“We’re home,” he whispers, bringing Poe’s face close to him. Poe nods numbly, accepting the kiss from his husband.

He can do this. Poe can blindly take steps forward. They’ve just come home, that’s all.

Finn kisses him again, hands trembling as he cups Poe’s jaw.

He can do this. 

They move forward.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In a twisted way, I’m glad to have reached this part of the fic- I’m struck by how good of a team Finn and Poe are. They’re finally, reluctantly, on the same page again, which makes moving forward, no matter how painful, easier.  
> Thank you to everyone who has supported me, read, left comments and shown love. I appreciate y’all sm.


	10. X

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Twilight is upon me, and soon, night must fall. That is the way of things. The way of the Force.” -Yoda

It's rainy season on Yavin. This brings fierce winds and torrential downpour each day, beating against their roof and walls senselessly. Finn can't bring himself to mind this year. Even with all six of them trapped together in the house, Finn doesn't care. If his time with his family is now limited, then he's determined to spend every moment he can with his husband and children.

When Finn faced his first battle- when he realized as a child, still FN-2187, that he might die, an expendable tool in the First Order’s war, he hoped that his death would be quick. A flash of blasterfire, then nothing. Little pain, and too brief to process.

Finn watches his health deteriorate and wants to die slower. His children are so young; he will see none of them fall in love, graduate, leave the nest. He won’t spoil his grandchildren with Poe, see his dark hair turn to a silver-grey, tease him for the wrinkles that will appear in the corners of his eyes. This will all be done without him, and he doesn’t want it. He wants to stay here, in the interim between living and dying. This is how it will end anyway- he'll fade away as a father of young children, who will never know him as anything else.

Finn watches the rain against the windows, thick sheets pouring down the glass. Lynia is curled against his side, her brow furrowed as she reads on her datapad. This is their new routine: Finn will wake, either late in the morning because of exhaustion, or in the middle of the night because of pain and insomnia. Whenever he does, Lynia rises with him, sometimes starting her day, and other times, falling asleep next to him on the sofa.

He'll catch her staring. Holding his hand and running her fingers over his knuckles. It's like she's trying to memorize his face.

Finn doesn't blame her. He writes notes to himself, trying to preserve memories while he still has any clarity of mind. Poe insists on photographing everything he can. Finn already looks alien though, bald and thin. They've missed the opportunity for holos where he looks healthy, because Finn will never be healthy again.

He accepted that, so long ago. When treatment started, it marked the end of his strength and overall well-being.

It gave Finn time he desperately needs. It bought his children months of having two parents, even if any sense of normalcy had already been obliterated.

His older children, somehow, adapt. He has this new routine with Lynia, and Walton and Temmin manage to find ones of their own.

Hera avoids him and it breaks his heart. She doesn’t tell him about her day, nor ask what’s happening as he loses more weight and regrows his hair. She stays silent when Walton praises the first wispy hairs beginning to form Finn’s eyebrows. She says practically nothing at all, until:

“Why didn’t the treatment work, Daddy? You said it worked a little. Why didn’t they just keep trying?”

And:

“Why did you tell me you would always be there for me if you didn’t mean it?”

But the worst one comes when she’s been asking questing again for days: “Why am I the one that has to lose my Daddy?”

It’s hard to explain to a ten-year-old, as brilliant as Hera is, the cosmic unfairness of the universe. Or how damning a battle against illness can be.

“I’m always in your memories and in your heart,” Finn tells her.

“I still remember my Mama,” Poe reminds her. He puts a hand over his chest. “I still feel all that love for her. I still remember what she looked like when she smiled.”

She’s afraid. Finn can sense it; terror and uncertainty roll off of Hera in waves. It haunts him in restless dreams and disturbs his every waking moment. He hopes that, in time, his death will become easier to accept.

But Finn is running out of time.

The moonlight shines through the window and illuminates the bed, but it is not the light that keeps Finn from sleeping.

Poe is fast asleep beside him, face smushed against the pillow ungracefully. The dark bags under his eyes are deepened by shadow, and Finn wants to reach out to touch his face, but doesn’t. He looks more peaceful in sleep, yet the signs of exhaustion remain.

Finn’s eyelids are heavy, pulling his eyes closed, but Finn shifts in bed, trying to remain awake. It is a precious, stolen moment, where there is no disease or kid or worries to interrupt. It’s just him and Poe, a rare few minutes where Finn can appreciate his husband.

He doesn’t want to leave Poe behind. He wants to stay. He wants to grow old with Poe and watch their children grow up, and stay here with Poe forever. He’s terrified- not even to die, but to leave his family behind.

A gasp escapes him, but Finn buries the rest of his cries by stuffing his fist against his mouth, helpless and trying desperately not to disturb Poe, but he is shaking uncontrollably, and it only takes seconds for the light sleeper next to him to blink his eyes open, taking in Finn’s sorrow and grief. No words pass between them, but Poe draws Finn close, wiping away his tears and tucking the other man to his chest. Poe lets Finn cry, having no need for an explanation until Finn is ready to share, and it’s this comfort that allows Finn to finally fall into an uneasy rest.

In the morning, the rain has paused, if only for a little while. It’s been so long since Finn has been able to enjoy the fresh air. On Ryndellia, it was too artificial, and he barely had the energy to go outside. On Yavin, Poe has forbidden him from leaving the house, afraid that Finn will catch a cold and suffer far worse consequences, given his weakened immune system. But Finn longs to go outside; he misses the cleanness in his lungs, the freedom of the jungle. There is a prevalent staleness, an unhappy stickiness that doesn’t seem to leave him. He wants to be liberated and born anew in the forest that surrounds them. He reminisces about the life he finds on Yavin and the way his connection to the Force hummed and thrived with energy.

That’s the other thing, Finn thinks, as he struggles to put on his shoes. He can’t bend down without getting dizzy, so he sits in a chair and tugs on his boots. The Force- it ebbs and flows as always. But there’s a disconnect now, one that he realized had first formed between him and Rey. Back on Ryndellia, she had felt distant, and that gap has only grown.

The trees and animals welcome him gladly. His connection to them is stronger now.

In all likelihood, it’s a sign.

Finn sighs, shoulders sagging when he hears the commotion behind him. Poe is speaking in a raised tone, then the door opens and Walton jogs out to meet him.

“Hey Dad,” his son says, nearly achieving a casual attitude. “Want some company?”

Finn smiles at Walton and takes the arm offered to him, but not before turning back to serve Poe a glare. His husband is watching them through the window, and he grins as if he knows what Finn is thinking. Finn waves, smiling widely in a gesture of pure annoyance that he’s sure Poe understands, then goes on a walk with his son.

Poe knows many gods. Growing up, villagers on Yavin IV had an assortment of deities they prayed to, ones that they still worship today. He spent most of his adult life with the Resistance, a motley of humans and aliens from around the galaxy, who prayed to more gods than he can remember.

Poe knows that when it comes between a lone Resistance fighter and the First Order, with more guns and more men, not one of those gods will save you.

Poe knows, but can’t accept, that none of these gods will save Finn either.

There are too many lessons learned here, besides the fact that the stars have doomed Finn to die. It starts with the obvious: Finn is sick and Poe must care for him. Poe has to provide for his husband and children, which now means wiping away tears and helping Finn around the house. Poe's an expert on giving sponge baths, this among a variety of other skills he never wanted to know or use. There's a sort of routine for it, one that almost numbs the pain of it all.

Poe also learns how to tell people that his husband is ill. He must be strong, he must give a tired, sad smile, and say “Finn is sick. We’re sad to say it’s incurable. He’s giving it his all before the end.” Then, after confirming that yes, he technically is dying, and thank you for being  _ so sorry,  _ he must invite that person to see his husband before he dies.

Amongst the sickness and death, a myriad of friends come to visit. Rose, Jannah, and Karé all spend intermittent weeks with them. They cook, they clean, they take the kids off Finn and Poe's hands to make things easier. When they leave, their preserver unit is stuffed full of meals. It's good that they do this; if he didn't have a ten-year-old reminding him, Poe might forget to eat entirely.

Poe remembers the sinking feeling he had on Exegol; the despair that choked him too tightly to breathe. For a long, horrible moment, he had truly believed that he and his friends were about to die, that evil would push out their light in the galaxy.

That feeling is what Poe wakes up with, now. It stays with him all day and haunts his dreams at night. It’s nearly all he feels, aside from the dull pain in his chest reminding him just how much he loves Finn.

Helplessness. Like he's not known in years- it was banished after he joined the Resistance, then totally obliterated once he became a father. There is nothing he wouldn't do for his children, to ensure their safety and happiness.

He's powerless now.

_ All is as the Force wills it,  _ Leia had said grimly, in the days after Crait and the Starkiller. She kept fighting, though. But she accepted what was inevitable.

_ All is as the Force wills it,  _ Rey says softly, examining Finn's face. She cries whenever Finn can't see but he always seems to know anyway.

_ All is as the Force wills it,  _ Finn says tiredly, when he stands and stumbles or takes three naps in one day. 

Poe doesn't understand. The Force had willed them to win the war, but not to live their lives afterward.

They skirt around the topic. Every one of Poe's observations leads to the same conclusion: this is unfair. Not only unfair, but wrong. Wrong that the stars would align in such a way to take Finn from his family. 

It does no use to tell any of this to Finn. He knows, better than anyone else, how wretched the circumstances are. Yet he accepts the apologies and regrets and sorrows from the friends and family around them. He tolerates it because there's nothing left for those people to do.

Finn needs help doing some things, Poe tells himself. And he needs to be happy and to be comfortable when the time comes. No words can help him now, except maybe affirmations of love and care.

Finn's mind is clearer than before, although there are some foggy moments. The doctors warn that the more pain medication he's on, the more confused Finn will become. Consequently, Finn takes enough to make his days bearable.

He's still weak, though. He grows weaker every day.

Now, Poe thinks, he's okay. They've had worse days than today, but Poe still keeps a careful watch on Finn as he reads on the sofa.

Walton calls for him from another room. Finn rises to go, pushing himself up carefully. He makes it, but takes a shuddering breath, clinging to the edge of the couch to stabilize himself.

Finn’s hands are trembling. Poe notices, but as he stands to help support his husband, Finn meets his gaze and stops him short with a single glance.

“Sorry,” Poe says automatically, though they’ve talked about apologizing to each other. To his credit, Finn says nothing, but the ever-familiar weariness settles in his eyes again. He is prepared to let the moment go, to resume pretending that there is no cause for concern, but Finn shakes his head, voice angry.

“I’m so- I can’t do  _ anything.  _ I’m so dependent and useless. I want to be free of this pain but I can’t-” his words break into a sob. “I’m just waiting to die and I can’t take it anymore.”

Then, Poe really does stand, crossing the room to close the distance between them. He embraces Finn tightly, but the other man is weak in his arms, and together, they sink to the floor. Tears escape Poe’s eyes, flooding his cheeks, paired miserably with the wretched sobs leaving Finn.

“I don’t want to die,” Finn gasps. “Poe, I’m so scared.”

Drawing Finn even closer to him, Poe buries his face in Finn’s neck, unable to speak. His presence is some comfort, but panic overtakes Finn, and he is lost to his own devastation. As the cold fist of fear seizes Poe’s heart, the grips of anxiety do the same to Finn.

"I'll be with you the whole way," Poe says. It's the closest thing to comfort he can offer.

They’ll classify that as a good day, later, if only because far worse ones follow. Finn’s pain becomes far more debilitating. His hoverchair gets more use, and his medications are increased, against a chorus of protests from the former general.

“I don’t want foggy brain,” Finn says. He’s repeating himself at this point.

“You couldn’t get out of bed today,” answers Poe tiredly. This has become a daily routine.

Finn glowers at him, but coughs, his whole frame convulsing. Poe winces, reaching for Finn’s cup of water. When the coughing fit passes, Finn’s face is tight with agony, his jaw clenched. He’s curled in the fetal position, as if Finn is trying to shield himself from the pain.

There’s a compromise to be made. Finn increases one of his medications and stays in bed more.

Poe can accept this. Finn seems to be in better spirits the less he moves and bringing Finn his meals is less work than setting him up in another room. The kids, for the most part, accept this too. Walton reads next to his father, and Lynia works primarily from the master bedroom. It’s Hera, though, who offers the most resistance to this change. She asks for Finn for help as much as she does to Poe. It’s as if, in her mind, Finn is not sick at all. This much has persisted, despite Poe’s unending wishes that his youngest daughter will begin to understand what’s happening.

“Will you tuck me in?” Hera asks one evening, with such a grand air of innocence that Poe knows she has realized that Finn can’t. The two men exchange a glance; Finn is exhausted, and Poe fights the sudden surge of anger threatening to emerge from deep within him.

“Come give me a kiss instead,” Finn says, his voice rasping, and Poe watches as his daughter kisses Finn goodnight from where he lays supine and too weak to move in bed. He smiles at Hera, his gaze sharp but tired, and she has barely turned away from him before his eyes slide shut.

“ _ Papá _ ?” Hera looks to Poe instead. “Please?”

He nods silently and takes her hand, disregarding the impulse to send her to bed on her own just to stay with Finn and make sure his husband is comfortable before sleep takes him. It’s unlikely that he’ll wake before noon tomorrow, and Poe again fights the annoyance he feels at the lack of time left in the day for Finn.

He guides Hera to bed without a word, lost in thought as he mindlessly covers his daughter with blankets. Instinct takes over, unquestioned until Hera speaks again.

“Will you sing to me?”

She’s too old for this, and Poe sighs, but her voice is so meek and her gaze is focused on the ceiling instead of looking at her father. She’s so small and so young. His heart breaks, as it is prone to do in Hera’s presence. 

Suddenly, Poe doesn’t want to say no anymore, so he sinks to his knees beside her bed, ignoring the protests of his aching joints against the hard floor, and begins to sing a soft lullaby his parents once sang to him. It’s a traditional Yavin IV ballad, and although Hera hasn’t asked him to sing to her in years, the words haven’t left him.

As he sings, quietly and almost timid, Hera finally musters the courage to look at him, her brown eyes scanning his face. He can’t manage a smile, but he holds her gaze, and she reaches out for him, clutching his hand. Her skin is soft against the encompassing roughness of his palm, but her grip is tight and her heart forgiving.

Tears prickle in his eyes as Poe continues, and his voice wavers. Nonetheless, he maintains some of his dignity because Hera has at last begun to fall asleep, and his grief goes unnoticed.

When the song is finished, he slips into the hall, stealing away and at last unneeded by the dependent members of his family. Poe chokes on tears, gasping for air.

_ Kriff _ . His daughter and husband need him, yet Poe is failing to be there, failing to recognize Hera’s desperation for love and Finn’s basic needs in his ailment. He needs patience for them both, to forgive what they cannot control, but it’s too much, he cannot be in two places at once, and he is being torn apart in all directions. It's too much.

He cries in the empty hallway for a few minutes more, then takes deep breaths to calm himself. After wiping the wet from his cheeks, he returns to Finn, and as he suspected, the other man is already fast asleep.

“Talk to me, son.”

Kes speaks and Poe realizes that he’s barely said a word during the whole of the trip to his father. He hadn’t explained his reason for the unannounced, unplanned visit but when Poe woke this morning, he couldn’t bear being in the house much longer. He had taken the landspeeder to Kes’s ranch, then promptly gone silent.

“I can’t do it,” Poe whispers, and Kes waits for his son to continue.

“It’s so- it’s so  _ unfair.  _ I- I waited so long to tell him that I loved him. We were in the middle of a war, and I fell in love with him the moment we met. But I didn’t do anything because I was so scared of losing him, and now- when I finally let myself dream of just growing old with the man I love, that’s when I’m going to lose him. I loved him for a year, terrified that we wouldn’t live through each day. But now he’s-” Poe breaks off, choking back frustrated sobs. Kes, still quiet and patient, allows the moment to pass and for Poe to finish. Mercifully, he doesn’t make Poe say the words, so Poe keeps going, leaving the unsaid message hanging in the air between them.

“-now, after we’ve retired and won and handed the fate of the galaxy over to new leadership, we’re supposed to be safe. Happy. And for a long time, too.”

Wretched and overwhelmed with grief, Poe’s fingers curl into a fist, slamming down onto the table in front of him. Kes watches while Poe struggles to compose himself. Tears stream down the younger man’s face, angry and bright.

“Have you told Finn how you feel?” Kes asks gently, voice rumbling with years of wisdom and age.

Poe shakes his head, trying to move words past the lump in his throat.

“That might be a good start.”

“It’s so selfish.” Poe’s voice is low and hoarse. “How can I say that it’s unfair for me when I’m not even the one who’s sick?”

“And how can you say that it’s not unfair for you to watch Finn suffer? That you have to support four children and an ill husband?” Kes tries to catch Poe’s eyes, which are determinedly fixed on his fidgeting hands. “It’s not the same, yes, but Poe, you can’t pretend that it doesn’t hurt you as well.”

“I don’t want him to be burdened with this too,” Poe says, and Kes offers a half-smile.

“That’s the thing about marriage. You share burdens. And it may hurt him to know, but when you share this as a couple, it makes it easier for your marriage. It hurts and it helps as individuals; but stars above, you face it together and that makes all the difference.”

Poe nods, at last meeting his father’s gaze. “I’ll try and tell him.”

“Good. It’ll help, I promise. You can’t wish this stuff away. It’s the worst thing in the galaxy.”

Kes sighs, shifting uncomfortably in his chair. “Poe, facing this kind of thing- losing your partner with kids still dependent on you- it’s awful. There’s a terrible irony in the universe in that we as people are meant to love, but not to lose. Nothing in the universe can prepare you for what it’s like to lose the love of your life. It’s inhumane. But you’ll get through it because there’s no other choice.”

He is frowning, and Poe sees this as a blurred image, distorted by tears.

“I’ve been waiting for this visit to happen for a while now. It’s been a long time coming. When I lost your mother, everything you've described is what I faced every day. But the difference between Shara and me, and you and Finn is that the two of you still have each other. You’re not alone, and even when-” Kes stops for Poe’s sake, grimacing. “You’ll never be alone. And neither will the kids. So when it hurts too much, there are people willing to help you out.”

“Thank you,” Poe manages, and the tsunami of grief inside him begins to subside, for at least a few minutes, tempered by the calm of the moment.

When he returns home, Rey informs him that Finn is napping and that Hera and Temmin are with him. Poe sighs, relaxing considerably. He had left early in the morning before Finn was awake. Now, Finn is asleep again. At least that provides an escape.

Rey is watching him carefully, frozen as she studies his face. A knife is in her hand, raised over a vegetable. Poe arches an eyebrow, wordlessly questioning the Jedi.

“How are you?” Rey asks with an air of false innocence. She knows, because there are bags under Poe’s eyes and Rey is always at their home, enough to hear the hoarseness of Poe’s voice and see the way that his hands tremble sometimes.

“I’ve been better,” Poe says, his words bitter. She doesn’t fall for his defenses, deftly ignoring the harshness of the words. They are blind and lost with grief.

“You can tell me, Poe,” Rey says kindly. Poe wants to scoff, to push her away, but he is worn so thin and there’s not much left in him to deny his grief.

“I can’t live without him,” Poe says instead, breaking their eye contact, focusing determinedly on the ground between them. It hurts physically to think about it. The father of his children, soon to be gone. Poe’s eyes flicker back to Rey’s and the pain reflected in them. The understanding of the loss consuming them both overtakes him. His shoulders are shaking without his permission to let go, wracked with sudden sobs, but Rey is there to catch him. He practically collapses in her arms.

Rey doesn’t need to say anything, only hold him as he falls apart. For his husband, for his children, Poe must be strong, again assuming the resolve and resilience of a soldier. Yet here, locked safely in Rey’s arms, Poe mourns. He weeps for Finn, and for his family, and because he’s so tired, shredded to pieces by loss and grief.

Later, there’s another moment of quiet as the day ends. All other life in the house has finally settled in to sleep, and Poe wants desperately to follow his husband and children to bed.

But something nags at him. An aching, from deep withinside, sweeps through Poe. He’s had two great confidants in his life before Finn came along. He misses them both dearly.

_ Mama, I need your strength.  _ Poe crouches at the window, hands folded before him.  _ I need your love to get through this.  _

Then, as his heart throbs in his chest:  _ I miss you. _

Poe takes a shuddering breath, looking to the stars far above him. The moon drowns him in its light.

_ Leia, take care of Finn. Show us how to persevere. Guide him to you safely. _

There’s more he wants to say. A tear rolls down Poe’s cheek, and he sniffs loudly. There’s nothing he can wish, not a single hope for Finn to find escape and calm, that Leia doesn’t already know.

There’s no guarantee that either woman can hear him, anyway. Poe stands, swiping at his eyes.

Yet if it brings his beloved peace, Poe will try it. At the very least, he can remember his mother and Leia and know that he carries their love with him. 

When the day breaks, a weight has lifted off of Poe’s chest, dissolved into the morning air. His family is still with him, guiding him and supporting him, and that is nearly enough.

Lynia is the only other person awake with him. She is sitting at the table, hands wrapped around a cup of caf, her eyes fixed on the wall but her gaze vacant. Poe knows she’s never particularly liked caf, but he doesn’t say anything. Instead, he’s catching up on messages, enjoying her company.

Lynia sniffles once, rubbing her face. Poe glances up from his datapad, meeting her eyes. When she doesn’t break the stare, Poe frowns.

"How are you doing?" Poe asks, his tone preciously soft.

“I’m fine.” Poe doesn’t challenge the lie. Lynia rolls her eyes, as if sensing Poe’s exasperation.

“I feel small.” Lynia’s words are unsteady. “Like I’m all alone in the galaxy.”

She lets Poe take her hand.  _ “Mija,  _ you know we’re here for you. You can talk to me, or Dad. Walton is there too, or we can find a professional for you to meet with-”

“You were young when  _ Abuela  _ died,” Lynia says. “You didn’t have to watch her die.”

Poe frowns. There’s no malice behind her words, no ill intent. It’s true, Poe knows, but the ache in his chest pulses.

"Honey, I know- I know it's hard," Poe says. “It’s not the same, you’re right.” He chuckles, and Lynia raises an eyebrow in surprise. "You know, by the time we adopted you, we didn't have to raise you very much," Poe confesses, "but we've known you for ten years. You're still our daughter. Dad and I know how to make you feel better.” He nudges Lynia with his elbow. “At least some of the time. And even if we can’t fix everything, we’ll listen. Sometimes, just that can make you feel better.”

Lynia stares at him a moment more. Poe waits for her verdict; his daughter has often complained about his “General speeches.” Apparently, he can’t give advice without soaring pieces of information best suited to rallying Resistance troops.

But finally, Lynia offers him a half-grin. “I can try that,” she mutters. “And for the record, you did raise me. The First Order taught me how to survive. You taught me how to be a good person. Don’t cry,” she adds, for Poe is already wiping at his eyes conspicuously. 

“I’m proud of you, Lynia,” Poe says, and to his credit, he manages to be straightfaced. “We both are.”

“I know.” Her eyes crinkle around the edges. “Thank you, Papa.”

Life is calm, in relative terms. It’s as close to normal as Poe thinks it will ever be. Finn sleeps in, the kids go about their lives, and Poe juggles everything the best he can. Poe keeps his head above water, which suffices most days.

Finn is still the first to comment on Poe’s growing to-do list, which includes the heaps of dishes and piles of laundry strewn around the house. Despite this, his offers to help are firmly rejected, but this does spark another conversation.

"You know how we talked about getting a droid to help around the house?" Finn murmurs, arms wrapped around Poe, who's lying against his chest. 

Poe nods, and Finn pauses to listen to an unfolding commotion elsewhere in the house. A familiar whisper speaks to Poe, warning him that Finn is keeping something from him.

"Rey picked him up from the spaceport today," Finn says. Poe waits for his husband to continue, but Finn does not oblige, and realization begins to dawn.

"Wait," Poe starts, sitting up. "Which-"

"Master Poe!" A voice cries from the doorway. "How  _ wonderful  _ to see you!"

Poe groans out loud. There, standing at the entrance to the room, is him. Silver leg, golden limbs, mouth proficient in over 6 million forms of communication. 

Poe turns back to Finn, who is perfectly still and neutral. "Him?!?" Poe demands, "now, of all times in our lives, you bring  _ him  _ into our house and-"

The pilot stops abruptly, meeting his husband's gaze. "You-" he starts. "You're lucky you're cute," Poe tells him, and Finn freezes. Poe watches his face carefully, but then a smile begins, and Finn laughs.

The sound is so beautiful, so full, that for a split moment, Poe can't believe that Finn has ever been sick. His eyes flutter shut, heart soaring, then he leans down and kisses Finn, deep and passionate. Despite that C-3PO is still watching, despite that Poe will inevitably snap at the droid and curse the day he was brought into the universe, he smiles against Finn's lips, satisfied but still hungry, and Finn is pulled happily into the contact. Stars, to hear Finn like that. It's the most magical sound in the galaxy, even- especially- now. There’s no pain in it, no worry.

“Master Poe, I-” Poe raises his finger, telling Threepio to wait. The golden droid falls quiet, waiting until Finn needs to surface for air.

“-I’m quite happy to serve you,” Threepio finishes awkwardly. Poe stares at him a moment, then grins.

“I’m glad you’re here, Threepio,” Poe says, and means it. If Finn laughed again, like nothing was wrong for just one second, then he can put up with the droid.

It’s easier, after that. Poe has more quiet evenings to spend with Finn and their kids. The protocol droid is indeed very proficient in his work, even if he does talk Poe’s ear off.

Finn does better too. He seems more at peace, and that fact is what comforts Poe the most. They have time together, and although Finn is not entirely comfortable, he’s content.

On one of the rare occasions Finn stays up late with Poe, the music player is on, serenading them with a series of old tunes. It’s a tranquil evening together, just the two of them enjoying each other’s company.

The first strains of the next song are quiet, the gentle strumming barely audible. But Finn would know them anywhere, and he strains his neck to hear better.

It's their wedding song. A simple, beautiful tune. Poe and Finn had taken lessons for their first dance, but when the time came, they just ended up holding each other, both men crying as they swayed on the dance floor.

It had been the happiest day of his life. They had Hera then, and Walton soon followed. Finn joined in matrimonial union with the love of his life, and his family was already growing.

Now, Finn meets Poe's gaze, a smile ghosting across his lips. There's nothing either man needs to say to bring back the memories. After their wedding, they made it a point to dance together whenever they stumbled across the song. Most of the time, they'd cry then, too.

It's Finn who stands first, offering his hand to Poe. Wordlessly, he accepts, wrapping his arms around Finn's waist. There's only inches between them. Finn circles his arms around Poe's neck.

The lyrics start, a woman crooning softly about dreamers and lovers. They don't do anything more than sway, trapped in each other's embrace, but they trace a small circle around the room.

The song is short, only a few minutes long. Finn's legs ache, and he inhales deeply, trying to focus on anything but the pain. His arms are locked painfully around Poe. Finn might be trembling.

He stumbles, but Poe catches him. The other man is smiling nervously, eyes brimming with tears.

"Do you want to sit?"

"No," Finn shakes his head resolutely. "I can do this."

"Okay," Poe whispers. He must be supporting most of Finn's weight now. They stop swaying and stand there in place. Finn tries to listen to the words of the song, diverting his attention there.

Poe is steady, and warm, and strong. Finn is glad Poe is there to help him.

Lightheadedness washes over Finn, and Poe's grip tightens. 

"I have you," Poe murmurs. Finn rests his head on Poe's shoulder.

"I know," Finn mutters. Everything hurts, but standing still is better. 

It's the final notes of the song. Finn looks up at Poe, tears spilling over. Poe peers down at him, tears tracking down his face, but he doesn't let go.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you want to arrest me for this chapter, that’s probably valid. I do think it’s my favorite so far, though. Much of it was pre-written allll the way back in January and February.  
> Thank all y’all for your love and support. <3


	11. XI

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> “I try to think of you only in the moments when I’m strong, because the pain of not having you with me... The pain of that loss is so overwhelming...” -Galen Erso

There's a celebration on Ajan Kloss, marking the first time the Resistance has dared to do anything but work and mourn and fight in the endless war. A bonfire blazes high into the trees while their numbers, smaller now than ever, laugh and drink around the flames.

The General sits a distance away, watching her troops rather than joining them. Poe notices her after some time has passed, and he wonders if she's been there the whole time or simply joined the party hours after it started.

When Leia sees Poe looking, their gazes meet. She does nothing to acknowledge this, but something tells him that she wants to talk to him, so he excuses himself from his squadron's celebration and heads over to the quieter part of the encampment and rests next to the General.

The silence continues, but it's not uncomfortable. Poe observes as the older woman does, both of them watching the merriment on their new base. He's not entirely sure why Leia is here, given how rarely she partakes in Resistance parties, but he's more than content to sit in her company.

"You know," she begins, "when this war started, I wondered if it was because we failed. After everything, the system we set up wasn't enough to keep the peace. We spent so much time fighting. So many lives were given, and for what? For Darkness to return stronger than ever before?" She sighs. "And then I wondered if we even really won in the first place."

A loud laugh carries across the forest to them. Poe thinks it might be Jessika’s. Even from far away, he can see her silhouette illuminated by the fire, her shadow dancing against the surrounding trees.

"I thought of all we sacrificed to get here. I lost my family, my home, my world. I wasn't the only one who did.

"That first night on Endor, I knew the fighting wasn't over. But I thought the war was. I had hoped there would be peace."

Another laugh rings out. This time, Poe knows it's Finn's, and Leia smiles sadly. "When all of this is over, Commander, I hope the peace lasts forever. I hope you get to go home and I hope you never have to pick up your blaster ever again." Her voice is heavy, laden with sorrow, and her words sound thick leaving her throat, but they're delivered as steadily and calmly as ever. "But I can't promise you that. I can't promise the war will end soon or that peace will last." Her hand, adorned with her ring, which is silver and twists, encompassing two deep blue stones, covers Poe's knee. "I hope it does. I strive so that it does. But this," she gestures at the people all around them, then up to the stars, "this is what we fight for. And whether it stays just for tomorrow or for the rest of time, enjoy it while it's here, Poe. I’ve learned firsthand how fleeting it all is."

Leia turns to face him then, brown eyes glistening. He thinks he can see the whole universe shining in her gaze, and then there are stars and the infinity of space consuming them, and the General is further and further away.

"Leia-" he tries to choke, but he can't speak, and the campfire is gone, and she's fading quickly too. "Leia!"

And Poe wakes.

The grief, at times, is so overwhelming that Poe forgets how to breathe. It tightens his chest, choking him when he sees Temmin reading against his father’s side or Walton helping Finn navigate through the house. There’s a pervasive fear that haunts him; knowing that every time he looks at Finn, it might be the last time Poe sees him alive. 

There’s nothing he can do to stop it, now. He knows Finn will die. He’s marching towards that reality without resistance.

Some days, the terror and the pain overwhelm him. Other days, Finn and Poe quietly discuss what Finn’s last days will be like.

“I’m excited to meet her,” Finn says. Poe wrinkles his brow in confusion, then the realization hits him. They’ve been talking about Shara Bey.

“She’ll love you.” The thought warms Poe’s heart. He’s always wanted his mother to meet Finn.

“And I’ll give Leia your love,” Finn continues, and Poe nods. Then Finn’s face splits into a wide smile. “Poe, what if I find my parents?”

In all their years of searching, Finn’s origins had never been discovered. The First Order’s stolen list of living families was significantly shorter than the number of families that had their children taken from them before they were killed.

“I could have siblings,” Finn is grinning excitedly. “Poe, there’s so much I’ll learn.”

Poe ducks his head, bringing Finn’s hand to his lips. “You’ll be taken care of.” The affirmation is for himself as much as it means to comfort Finn.

His husband looks at him, growing serious. Something in his brown eyes melts.

“You’ll be okay,” Finn tells Poe, voice gentle. “You can do anything.”

“I forgot how.” Poe’s voice cracks. “I forgot how to do anything without you.”

“I’m right here,” Finn reminds him, placing his hand over Poe’s heart. “That’s where I’ll stay.”

“I know.” Poe exhales shakily. “You’re with me.”

“I’m with you.”

There are days when all Hera can do is look at Finn and weep. She clings to her father like a lifeline, following him around. This, in some ways, is easier than her denial, but it still hurts to see.

It’s not uncommon for them to cry. The family can rely on that much. In the discussions about Finn, or the future without him, a voice will crack and eye contact will break. As frequently as this occurs, weeping stops becoming a disturbance and instead is smoothly steered around as if nothing is the matter. They smile through it and recover quickly, most of the time, but the heaviness in the Dameron household seems as if it’s a permanent fixture.

Finn asks Poe not to cry for him. He’s tired, he says, of people looking at him and bursting into tears. That he can’t be the only strong one in all of this. That, at least in front of him, Poe should stay stoic.

“I want to be happy,” he pleads. “If I’m going to die, Poe, then I can’t be surrounded by misery. I need you to see that.”

“Of course,” Poe promises, his throat dry. “For you, anything.”

Finn rests his forehead against Poe’s. “I know,” he sighs. “I know, Poe.”

It is a simple fact. Finn will die, soon, and Poe will watch. He can accept that Finn will leave him, even if he cannot picture a life where Finn is gone. And since he cannot imagine the future, Poe resolves to stay grounded in the present, where Finn is his and here and whole.

“Does it ever stop hurting?” Walton asks him one evening, his voice tight. His son glances around the common room to ensure that they’re alone. “Does it ever get easier to live with?”

Poe knows without a doubt what Walton is wondering. It’s something he questions now, facing the loss of his husband, the man he loves most in the galaxy.

Poe thinks of his father first, how Kes would know better than anyone how to answer this question. But Poe isn’t unqualified to respond, either.

He thinks of his mother. He thinks of Leia, and Snap and L’ulo and everyone he’s lost in all the years of his life. The grief from their deaths is still with him, even after all this time.

“No,” he says. “Not really.” He wraps an arm around Walton’s shoulders. “But it’s not that simple, either.” Poe sighs. “You’ll always feel the loss. You’ll never forget it. It gets easier, with time, but it never really goes away.”

Walton nods, resting his head on Poe’s shoulder. “It hurts every second of every day. Like I love him so much that every time I think about what’s gonna happen, my heart stops.” He pauses, glancing up at Poe.

“Talk to me,” Poe says. There’s a lump rapidly forming in his throat. “You can tell me. You’re not gonna hurt me by being honest.

“I miss him already,” Walton confesses. “But he's still here. And I keep wondering ‘how can it get any worse?’ but I know that it will.”

Poe nods. “And after that, it’ll get easier,” he promises. “There are ups and downs, but you learn to live with the hurt.”

“I’m not ready.”

“Me either.” Poe offers Walton a watery smile. “Hell, I’m barely-” he scrubs his face with his hand. “-I’m barely keeping it together. All I can do is put one foot in front of the other, and move forward.”

“You’ve been doing a good job,” Walton says quietly. “Of keeping us together. Thank you, Papa.”

“Of course.” Poe’s words are thick. He clears his throat. “Of course. We’re gonna get through this, you know. You’ve been so strong-” his voice catches. “-and I’m so proud of you. We both are.”

_“Gracias, Pap_ _á.”_

_“Por supuesto.”_

Afterward, Poe leaves his children in the trustworthy hands of C-3PO (“they’ll be safe and content with me, sir!”) and seeks out his father. Kes promises to cook something for Poe to bring home, immediately starting to grill a large slab of meat that smells delicious. The protein will be good for Finn, Poe reasons, but he wonders how small he’ll have to cut the pieces for his husband to be able to eat them.

“How can I help you, Poe?”

“Dad,” Poe says, and the words leave him easier than he ever expected them to. “What happens next? When he- what happens after? What do I prepare for?”

Kes turns to stare at him, his face stricken with sorrow. “Poe…” He looks stunned. “I…” Kes sighs. “I hardly know what to tell you. It’ll be difficult. Worse than you could ever imagine.” He sinks down in the seat across from Poe “It won’t feel like it’s real at first. Like…” Kes drums his fingers on the table. “I woke up and I thought Shara would be there. Every morning, for weeks. And then I got used to it, but some days, I would wake up and be surprised there was no one next to me. Then during the day, it always felt like I was just waiting for her to come home. It was surreal. I kept waiting for her to come back, like she was out flying on a mission, and that any day, she’d be back with us.”

Tears shine in Poe’s eyes, and Kes smiles sadly. “I was in disbelief. Then angry that she was gone, that I couldn’t have helped her, that it wasn’t someone else, that it was too soon. All of this rage just built inside me until I went numb.”

“I remember,” Poe says softly. “My own rage.”

“I know.” Kes grins at him. “You have your mother’s fire. I could never keep up.”

“That’s why she loved you. It balanced you guys out.”

“Well, maybe. Didn’t help me win any arguments.”

Poe chuckles. “And the numbness? What was that like?”

“I couldn’t imagine ever feeling happy again.” 

Poe stills. They’ve talked about the time after his mother’s death, but usually only in vague terms. Never before has Kes admitted to emotions this deep and damning. He’s alluded to it, and it’s gone silently acknowledged.

“How did you survive it?” Poe’s voice is barely above a whisper.

“I held on to the only bits of hope I could find.” Kes raises his chin, his eyes far away. “Like Leia’s letter to us. L’ulo and friends coming to visit. Your grandparents.” A tear rolls down his cheek. “My son, who needed me.”

Poe shakes his head, eyes misty, but Kes continues. “You kept me alive, Poe. My pain was different, but we both missed your mother. It hurt me, to know that you were in so much pain. I knew how alone you must have felt. How scary it was to have your world change like that. So I figured that if I could get my boy to smile again… If I could make you happy and keep you safe… things might be alright. So I focused on that, instead of the loss. Sometimes, it was too much. I couldn’t do it. I wasn’t always there for you, but I tried. I worked towards that.”

 _“Yo s_ _é_ _, Pap_ _á_ _. Gracias,”_ Poe chokes out. _“Te quiero.”_

_“Te quiero tambi_ _é_ _n, mijo.”_

Poe inhales, closing his eyes to steady himself. “And it helped?”

“It did. I remembered my purpose, Poe. I had to find something to live for. I remembered that it went beyond Shara. That I lived for you too. I couldn’t lose sight of that in my grief. You have four amazing, beautiful children, Poe. They will give you purpose. When you’re up to it, you can give your time to them. Or focus on the adoption centers. And when you can’t, that’s okay too. Just as long as you move forward eventually.”

“Then I carry it with me?”

Poe knows this next part. He’s already lived it. In the war, he took each day as it came, and he kept going and he kept going and he kept going and on and on and on. There was no time to break or crumble, so he didn’t. It was only after that he had the time and luxury to fall apart, and he did, once the dust settled. And that, astoundingly, took even longer than the war itself. He broke for years and he learned to carry the gaping wound with him always, throbbing and usually noticeable but refusing to fade all the same.

His newest wound hasn’t yet been split open. There is a knife, hovering above his heart, waiting to strike, and Poe knows it's there but he can’t stop it, only wait for his heart to be pierced and bludgeoned into a messy, bloody pulp, so it can bleed out for years until time scars it over and Poe learns how to move on.

“You do.” Kes sounds entirely calm about the matter. “You learn to live with it. And eventually, the hurt lessens. Looking back is less painful and becomes a gentle reminder of what once was, rather than what’s been taken away.

“You’ll get through this,” Kes shifts in his chair. “You know what it’s like, because of the war. You don’t really have a choice, so,” he sighs heavily, wrapping an arm around Poe, “you keep going. You just do. Even when you think it’s not going to get better, you move forward, and eventually, it does.”

Poe nods, an obedient student to his father’s wisdom. His own sorrow is already unfathomable, overwhelming, and it will soon expand.

I’ll be here,” Kes says, “every step of the way.”

Poe nods again. He knows this. He knows that his father will pick him up off the ground, that Rey won’t let him suffer alone or in silence. He knows that Threepio and BB-8 will help him whatever ways they can, that Jannah and Rose will go to any lengths to lighten the load on his shoulders or see him smile.

In all truth, though, all Poe wants is Finn to be there with him while he weathers that storm.

“They deserve a happy life,” Finn says to his husband, barely moving with his words. Poe wonders if it’s because of the pain or if he simply doesn’t want to disturb Temmin from where he is sleeping, his face pressed against his father’s side. It can’t be comfortable, Poe thinks, but their son is dead asleep. They’ve all been tired lately.

“I just wanted to give them that. Peace, calm, stability.” Finn continues, whispering, stroking the top of Temmin’s messy mop of hair. His gaze meets Poe’s, who nods, smiling sadly, then takes Finn’s hand. It is thinner, smaller now than his own.

“You have,” Poe says, pressing on when Finn starts to protest. “Despite it all. You’re a loving, wonderful father. You gave them lives and a home to call their own. That means something. Don’t underestimate yourself, Finn.” The deep warmth of Finn’s eyes is melting Poe, but he continues. “These are exceptional times, sweetheart. You’ve made something pretty damn good out of all of it.”

Then Poe risks more movement to lean in and kiss Finn, soft lips brushing over chapped ones, hands tangling in each other’s hair for just a second, each lingering while they can in the peace of the other’s presence.

“What’s it like,” Poe asks, and he’s as placated as Finn’s heard him recently. “How do I understand how to be there for you? What is it like to- to-” But Finn understands.

“It’s calm.” He says quietly. “At first, I was scared, and then one day, all the fear was gone.” Finn sighs softly. “I don’t see the world differently. It’s not any more beautiful, or tragic, or kind, or wonderful. I am the only thing changing in all of this.

“I am the only thing making the difference. I am the usurper, whether I meant to be or not. And what’s worse, I can’t control it and I don’t understand what happens after, either.” His next breath is slow and deliberate. “That’s all the fear I have left. Knowing that you’re scared for me. That you’re worried”

Finn traces the lines on Poe’s hand, voice a hoarse whisper. When his husband remains silent, Finn’s brilliance shines through as he smiles. “I am so in love with you.”

Poe smiles back, and Finn melts even further. “That’s it,” he says. “That’s why I fell in love with you. That smile.” He wheezes, and Poe freezes while his husband catches his breath. “When you looked at me like that for the first time, I had no idea what it meant. Then I realized it was a smile just for me. And it was brighter than anything else I’ve ever seen in the whole universe.” He laughs, and it sounds like it hurts him to do so.

“When we adopted the kids, you smiled like that for them too. And I knew- I’d realized it a thousand times before, but I knew that you were the only man I’d ever love. The only person I would start a family with. The person I would die loving.”

Hot tears are rolling down Finn’s cheeks now. His skin has a greyish tint, his words are strained, and Poe loves him more than anything else in the universe.

“It feels like goodbye. Or maybe just the next step. But I know much I love you and what you mean to me, Poe Dameron. And I only wish that we had more time.”

Poe shifts, so he’s close enough that Finn can reach his lips, and taste the salt on his soft skin. “And even though we don’t, sweetheart-” There it is again, that brilliant smile, sad and beautiful and the beginning of everything Finn’s ever known or loved. “-it was all good anyway. All of it.”

There is something watching Finn. All is dark around him, but there’s a familiarity to it that comforts him even in the obsoleteness.

“Master?” He calls out, and a smiling voice answers.

“Finn,” Leia says. Distinctly, he can see her, a fuzzy image swathed in white before him.

“Leia, I’m ready,” he says, but fear trembles in his voice. “What’s it like?”

The general does not question his anxieties, even now. “Peaceful,” she replies, serene. “Easier than you could ever imagine.”

She’s approaching him, now near enough to take his hands in hers. Her grip is as warm as her smile.

“I hope, Finn,” she says, “that you’ll just go to sleep and that will be all.”

Leia embraces him, and Finn closes his eyes. “It’ll be alright. We’ll be here.”

“And it’ll go away-” Finn’s voice catches. “All the pain?”

With the woman pressed against his chest, he can feel when Leia nods.

“No more pain,” she promises, and Finn’s fears evaporate.

Another voice echoes through the darkness. “You’ve done well, Finn.”

“Master Skywalker?”

“Finn.” Luke Skywalker smiles at him, resting a hand on his shoulder. “This is the living Force. Are you ready to begin your final training?”

“I’m ready.”

Finn is ready now for that quick death. His body aches; he is tired from doing nothing. He will die, and there is no escaping this fact. He is, at last, ready.

Poe is not. His children are not.

That, perhaps, is the only reason he is still here.

He sits, loaded like an unwilling bantha, in the speeder, clinging to the door to remain upright. Poe drives, because Finn will never drive again, to the medcenter.

There’s a tightness in his chest that is entirely unrelated to his cough and the aches afflicting his chest and limbs. Finn doesn’t know what they’ll do at the medcenter, or what will happen there. They’ll draw blood, most likely. Run a few tests.

There’s nothing new that he’ll learn. He’s dying; they can tell him how fast, maybe. He’s down to counting weeks, and Finn is never sure if he actually wants to know when he’ll die. Maybe for the sake of Poe and Lynia, who deal with stress by planning. That piece of certainty could help them, though it no longer makes a difference to Finn if he dies in an hour or in nine to ten weeks.

That’s not entirely true. He’d like longer than an hour, at least. There’s still another round of goodbyes to be made, and the worst ones are left.

Last time they went to the medcenter, Doctor Pheraa had told him to say goodbye to his closest loved ones sooner rather than later. He’ll probably be unconscious when he goes, or delirious.

Finn hates the medcenter. It has prolonged his life, taken away some of the pain, and torn him apart. His doctors destroyed his body with chemicals and ravaged it with trials and tests and experimental treatments. They’ve done so much good and they’ve hurt him more than anything else in the universe.

It turns out that he’s right; they do take his blood. Three different nurses, then Pheraa, ask him to rate his pain. He says an eight, which has been fairly constant over the past week, then they give him more medicine to take home. They tell him to use his hoverchair more frequently, and they suggest more accommodations so Finn can live easier. Pheraa is particularly pleased that they’ve accepted a protocol droid into the house.

“Extra help never hurts,” she says. With Finn still in the room, she briefs Poe on what it will be like to have Finn die at home. Finn has weeks to live, but anything could happen.

Poe doesn’t cry. He nods, and he takes notes on a spare piece of flimsi one of the nurses scrounges up for him.

Finn holds his hand. He carries the new medicine on his lap during the ride home.

“Do you want to continue the earlier conversation?” Finn asks in a low voice. He’s been carted to the hoverchair now, and he’s alongside Poe on a walk through the jungle.

“The one where you die?”

“Well, I thought since it was the hot topic nowadays…”

Poe chuckles, but there’s no humor in his eyes. “If it helps you.”

“It helps us both, Poe,” Finn says. “So that you’re prepared when I’m gone.”

“Right.” Poe avoids Finn’s stare. “What did you have in mind?”

There’s a team he’s been working with, Finn explains, part of the organization he hired for the adoption centers. They’ll handle any media after Finn dies: release a statement, organize events, manage anything Poe doesn’t want to deal with. 

“Are you gonna stay on Yavin?” Finn asks gently.

Poe is taken back. “Of course.”

“In the same house?”

Poe holds Finn’s gaze for a long moment, trying to digest this line of questioning. That he would leave their home is nearly unthinkable, but- Poe tries to imagine it. Their house, where he had settled down and lived with Finn for a decade, but without Finn. Only the memory of him left, haunting every room and hall.

“I think so,” Poe says quietly.

“You have to at least throw my toothbrush out,” Finn says, deadpan. Poe stares at him, then sighs.

“You age me, Finn Dameron,” he mutters, bracing himself on the sides of Finn’s hoverchair, lowering himself to kiss Finn.

“And you can throw out that old holo of Naboo you don’t like.”

“Hey, just because it’s tacky and cheap and something only a tourist would buy-” Finn rolls his eyes. “-doesn’t mean that it hasn’t grown on me,” Poe finishes.

Finn’s eyes widen. “It has?!”

“No, not at all,” Poe backtracks, shaking his head. “I still hate it, as a matter of fact.”

“If this is what it took-”

“No-” Poe is smiling, and Finn laughs, short and breathless.

“I love you.” There are still traces of humor in Poe’s tone. Finn tries to hold onto that sound, free of pain and free of grief.

“I love you, too.”

There’s other arrangements to be made, too. Funeral preparations trudge along, entirely dependent on his ability to stay awake for calls with the planning team, but what takes far more effort is the long-term plans. He tries, at first, to record holos for the children, but he can’t bear himself in them, with hollow cheeks and an unsteady voice. He handwrites them instead. Something for each of his kids, and for Poe, and for Rey, and for Rose, who has been sick with the flu and couldn’t see him in person.

Threepio or Walton take him through the house, sorting through all of his belongings. Most of it will stay, to be passed down to Poe or the kids. Many of his work things will go to Jannah, like the list of his long-term goals for the adoption and rehabilitation centers. Most of his books are bequeathed to Walton and Lynia. But there are countless holos and trinkets and memories. Thank-you gifts and promises and things collected from years of travels.

Finn cries during some of this. It’s a reminder of what once was, and what now cannot and will not be continued. He will be left behind, an ounce of his memory preserved in his things, and only those reminders will remain.

“I have something for you.”

There’s one thing, the most precious and valued of all his possessions, that Finn wants to pass on while his mind is still clear. Lynia goes to Finn in the empty bedroom, perching on the edge of his bed.

“This will be yours when I’m gone.” Finn dangles something in front of her, and it takes only a split second for Lynia to recognize it.

Finn’s ring, previously Shara Bey’s, has returned to the silver chain that Poe kept it on for so many years. Finn’s fingers are thin, his joints swollen. It won’t stay on his hand anymore.

“If you ever want to get married,” Finn continues, “this is for the person you love.”

Lynia reaches out for the ring, clasping it in her hands. She studies it in her open palms, staring at it. When she looks up at Finn, her eyes are shining.

“Thank you.” She whispers. The words are choked out all at once, as if she can’t bear to slow them down.

“Will you keep it safe for me?” Finn reaches out for her hands, taking her smaller ones in his.

Lynia bends to kiss their intertwined hands. “Of course,” she vows. “Of course.”

“I have the utmost faith in you,” Finn says. His voice is weak; he’s wheezing. Lynia’s eyes are wide, but she squeezes his hand before slipping the chain around Finn’s neck. 

“Thank you Dad,” she murmurs.

“You’re gonna do amazing things.”

“You showed me how. I’m just following your example.”

“You never needed my help…” Finn’s lungs are burning. He squints, heaving, and tries to remember the rest of his sentence. “...to change the galaxy.”

“You showed me the right direction, Dad.”

“And it was one of the greatest joys of my life.” He smiles at her, but there’s a growing fog clouding his eyes. Lynia reaches up, tucking the blankets under his chin.

Finn sleeps for twelve hours. He wakes coughing, and even when Poe brings him water to help, the fit doesn’t subside for several minutes.

He refuses food that day. He’s not hungry anymore, he says, and the pain has stopped his appetite.

Poe resolves to make him eat the next day. Finn may listen, out of self-preservation and resignation, but Poe remembers what Pheraa said about Finn’s appetite.

If Finn doesn’t want to eat, then it’s the beginning of the end. And there’s nothing they can do but accept that fact.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had an entire crisis after realizing that because I introduced Threepio as a character, I would need to include him in this story. This is beyond unfortunate because we’re pretty much just hitting all the emotional beats here and it’s not about anything else- however, I stand by including him, given that managing a household is low on the priority list rn. Let the droid do the cleaning. It’s pretty much realistic (I can attest) that they’d need extra help, so just trust that he’s there, like BB-8, who I’ve mentioned six (SIX!!!!) times in 55k words.


	12. XII

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> “Look to the Force, and you will always find me.” -Chirrut Imwe

On the good days, Finn can lift his head and respond and mutter quiet things to Poe and his children, and they get by with phrases and gestures, even though the good days are progressively few and far between. Poe hardly feels heartbroken anymore, although the weight on his chest is his constant companion. Finn is ready, he knows, but waiting brings no relief.

On the bad days, Finn sleeps most of the day, and when he’s awake, the haze of pain and medication overtakes his mind, and he simply holds Poe or one of the children’s hands, and grips tightly. There are moments where he seems completely gone, lost to the agony and confusion, but Hera will say something, or Walton will squeeze his hand, or Poe will press a kiss to his forehand, and Finn shines through. The familiar twinkle in his eye is there, albeit dulled, and he’ll offer Hera a wink, or squeeze back, or just look at them with a fleeting clarity in his eyes. This is what perhaps hurts the most- Finn’s decreasing ability to be present, to be with them through this disease, knowing Finn is slipping beyond them.

Poe hopes, with everything he is, that it’s been enough, and that Finn finds peace.

In stark contrast to Finn, Poe hardly sleeps anymore. He’s up before dawn, and he’s there to watch the sun pierce through the darkness. When Finn or Temmin or Hera wake in the night, he’s there with them, comforting and helping whoever needs him. Threepio does things like cook and clean and keep their lives in order, but Poe is the one who ensures they move forward.

He doesn’t need sleep. Grief keeps him from rest and prevents any tiredness from creeping in.

Finn notices this, but Poe is able to deflect it. “You don’t need to worry about me,” Poe promises, pressing a kiss to Finn’s temple. “I’m alright.”

Walton overhears this and shoots Poe a glare, which he ignores. Walton is just as run into the ground as Poe is, although Poe uses any ounce of seniority he has over his son to enforce healthy sleeping practices.

“You know Lynia has picked up on your habit of not sleeping?” Walton hisses to Poe, closing the bedroom door behind them. Finn is asleep again, but it took both of them to help Finn from the hoverchair to the bed.

“Y’know, I tell her not to,” Poe sighs. “And she doesn’t listen to me.”

“But I do.” Walton frowns at him. “I’m just as capable of helping, but she’s the only one who gets to stay up with you.”

“Walton-” Poe bites the inside of his cheek, then he takes a deep breath. When he continues, his tone is much softer. “Walton, after you go to bed, your sister and I share a scotch and then we cry or oil Threepio or make funeral arrangements.” He stares at his son, and Walton shrinks under his gaze. Sighing again, Poe brings Walton into his embrace. “Your sister is just stubborn. I could do it alone.”

“But we don’t want you to do it alone.”

Poe smiles, squeezing Walton tighter. “I know. I know you don’t, but there are some things…” He trails off, mustering the energy to say the words. “There are some things I had hoped to spare you from.”

Walton huffs out a laugh, his eyes glistening. “We’re here for you, Papa,” he insists. “It’s not like we aren’t already seeing what’s happening to Dad. But if we can make it better for you, that would mean something.”

Poe pulls back to look at his son. Walton’s black eyes are earnest, filled with love. His features are serious, his smile sad.

“Okay,” Poe concedes. “I’ll try to ask for help more.”

“You know  _ Abuelo  _ or Rey would help, too.”

“Hmm.” Poe slings an arm around Walton as they walk into the kitchen together. “I’ll tell you what- tonight, let’s all go to bed early. Then in the morning, we figure out a deal that works for everyone.”

“Do I get a scotch?” Walton’s face bears no humor, but as Poe stares at him, the corners of his mouth quirk up.

“Do  _ I  _ get a scotch?” Temmin says from behind Poe, just as deadpan.

“Ha,” Poe says flatly, rolling his eyes. Walton giggles. “I never said you guys were allowed to grow up on me.”

“It happened anyway.” Walton is still smiling, and Poe shakes his head.

“I don’t approve,” Poe grumbles. “This sucks.”

“Face it, old man,” Lynia interjects, entering to rummage through the preserver. “You’re old.”

“My own kids, ganging up against me,” Poe mutters, running a hand over his face. Hera appears from the living room, floating over to Poe. “Hera, you’re on my side, right?”

“Yup!” She nods, reaching up for Poe. He sweeps her off her feet, lifting her into the air. Poe groans under the weight, and Lynia raises her eyebrow.

“Case in point,” she says, extending her arms to her little sister. Hera wiggles out of Poe’s embrace then jumps into Lynia’s arms. The young woman catches her readily, smirking at Poe. “See? No sweat.”

“You guys are mean,” Poe laments. Temmin laughs, leaning into his side, and Poe brings the rest of his children into the hug.

They’ll be alright, Poe decides. They have each other.

“The first time I ever saw you, I thought I was gonna die.”

Poe is lying with his head on Finn’s chest. They’re tucked into the new bed, specially delivered to Yavin IV from Ryndellia, and Finn is secured by both the tubes in his arm and the mask over his face helping him breathe.

Finn strokes Poe’s hand instead of vocalizing a response. He’s weary now, and in a near-permanent haze from the pain medication. 

“And then you took off your helmet. And I started to realize that just maybe, there was a little bit of hope for me. You saved my life, sweetheart.

“Then we crashed. I thought I killed you. This sweet, incredible man saves my life and I repaid you by crashing into the desert on a planet you didn’t even want to return to.

“When I got you back- when I found you again-” Poe’s voice wavers dangerously. Finn simply continues to stroke the back of his hand, but his brown eyes are watching Poe carefully. “When we both made it to D’Qar. I just thought-  _ Force.  _ I’ll never let that happen again. I never want to see a galaxy where he dies and I live.”

Thick tears are streaming down Poe’s cheeks, and his face screws up in an effort not to bawl all over his husband and this stupid expensive medical equipment. Finn reaches up to his face, fumbling with the mask, and Poe wipes his eyes before helping Finn.

“I love you,” Finn says, voice rumbling and broken. “And from the moment I met you, I never wanted to let go.”

Poe nods obediently, and Finn takes a deep, wheezing breath before going on. “I still don’t plan on doing that.”

That’s all he has to say- that’s all there can be said. Poe helps Finn, both with trembling fingers, to place the oxygen mask back over Finn’s mouth and nose, and then the men are silent until sleep takes Finn again.

The end is more peaceful than Poe would have thought. It’s busy with arrangements and goodbyes and tears, but there’s no more fight left in him or Finn. He understands, in some respects, the sudden sense of calm Finn had described. Finn’s death will come to pass, and there’s nothing he can do about it.

“I can’t do it.”

Morning comes, and Finn is awake early. Poe slept in the bed next to him, having woken as Finn stirred. They’re watching the sun come up, Finn fading in and out of sleep as the hours trickle by.

“Do what, baby?” Poe’s voice is gravelly from underuse. Finn shifts towards him, face contorted with effort. Poe props himself up on his elbow to see Finn.

“Say goodbye,” Finn’s voice wavers and breaks. Now fully awake, Poe rises out of bed, going to Finn’s side. He wipes a tear from Finn’s cheek.

“To me? To the kids?” Finn nods, and Poe swallows hard. “None of us want to see you suffer anymore, Finn. I know you’re ready to go, sweetheart. There is not a soul on this planet who wants you to leave us, but we don’t want you to be in pain. If you have to say goodbye-” Poe is crying, and he brushes away the tears without stopping. “-then you do what you need to do.”

Finn nods. His next inhale is a wheeze, and the conversation seems to have winded him.

“It hurts to leave you,” he murmurs. “But I need to go.”

“I know,” Poe exhales, taking Finn’s frail hand in his. “We’re as ready as we could ever be, darling.”

“I love you,” Finn mumbles. “I need to tell the kids…” his eyes are fluttering shut. “I need to tell them I love them too.”

“We have time,” Poe whispers, but Finn has fallen into unconsciousness again. Poe slumps on the bed, still holding Finn’s hand. Finn has his blessing to leave. Poe’s shoulders curl in, and Poe sobs, tears rolling down his face. His shoulders heave and he shakes, trying to keep quiet so Finn can rest. Part of him knows that Finn won’t be disturbed; the already heavy sleeper is pulled under by medication and sickness. Even so, Poe doesn’t want to risk it, if this sleep now will allow Finn some meager energy later.

Poe thinks that when Finn dies, life will simply stop.

He’s unsure how he’s supposed to carry on. More than that, he doesn’t know if air will be able to force itself out of his lungs, if he’ll retain the ability to breathe.

Poe has been with Finn a quarter of his life. They’ve worked together, been together, waken up together for the past decade. They finish each other’s thoughts, complete each other’s sentences. Poe has introduced Finn as his better half a great many times.

Poe’s forgotten how to live without Finn by his side. Their souls and lives are intertwined, irreversibly so, and when Finn is gone, none will be able to fill the void left in his heart.

There’s a different space for his children, so his heart will not become totally empty. But all the same, half of it will be torn away. While Poe has accepted what will come, and he knows that Finn has too, he will be ripped apart.

He doesn’t want Finn to say goodbye to him. In all their years of companionship and marriage, there’s little that they haven’t expressed to each other. Every fight, every complaint, words of affection and pleasure and admiration- they’ve had time to tell each other. What is there left to say, and what words could even encompass such a monumental parting?

“I love you,” Finn tells him later that day. With Lynia’s help, Finn has been moved from the bed to his hoverchair, and they were able to take a walk together. This may be one of the last, though; Finn seems to be struggling to keep his head up. “You gave me purpose,” Finn’s breath heaves, “...and a home, and a family.” He reaches out for Poe, who clutches Finn’s hand close to his chest. “I wrote a note for you, to tell you how stupidly in love with you I’ve been since they first brought you on board the  _ Finalizer.” _

“I’ll give it a read,” Poe smiles, but his vision blurs with tears. “Since the author is so handsome.”

Finn rolls his eyes. “You ridiculous flirt,” he whispers, resting his head against Poe’s stomach.

“And yet you still married me,” Poe chuckles wetly.

“I wouldn’t change it for the whole universe.”

“...and when I go back to school, I’ll see Cecil, and Anna, and Tophe again,” Hera says. Her tone is smaller, meeker than her usually happy babble. Finn nods, his eyes cracked open, and Hera continues hesitantly. “They gave you a card, Daddy. And there’s one for me, too. All the kids at school signed it.”

Finn nods. Poe runs his fingers over the peach-fuzz covering Finn’s skull. “That was very nice of them, honey,” Poe supplies. Finn nods again.

“Did you read it?” Her eyes are wide. 

“He did.” Poe’s not sure if Finn remembers doing so, but Finn did read the card, at some point. Hera glances from him to Finn, her eyes welling with tears. “Why don’t you go get it and we can look at it again?”

“Okay…” Hera slides off the raised medical bed and slips out of the room. Finn takes Poe’s hand in his, rubbing his thumb along Poe’s knuckles.

“Wish I…” Finn’s brow wrinkles in confusion. “I don’t know…”

“It’s alright,” Poe says. “There’s nothing you need to worry about now.”

“Hera…” Finn gasps, and his eyes fly open again.

“She’s okay,” Poe chokes. “You’re okay, Finn.”

“I left… I left notes for her. For all of them,” Finn pants. Poe rearranges the pillows behind Finn’s head, and Finn settles down. Hera comes back into the room, and Poe lifts her so she’s next to Finn again.

“Here’s where Mrs. Silka signed,” Hera points to the name. Finn leans his head all the way back, his eyes barely open. Poe stands at the head of the bed, watching his husband and daughter, and even after Finn falls asleep again, Hera stays by his side.

“Are you hungry?” Poe asks her quietly.

“Yes,” she mutters, and Poe gathers her into his arms, carrying her into the kitchen. She sits at the counter while he cooks, and the other three kids slowly follow.

This is what his future will look like, Poe realizes. At least for a while after Finn is gone. The four of them, sitting in their stupor of muted grief, trying to determine a way forward, if only through the silence deafening them all.

“I’m going to miss the way he smiled at us whenever we did something nice for someone,” Walton says. “You know, how his whole face would light up and he’d just grin at Papa.”

“He did that whenever we reminded him of Papa,” Temmin says.

“He did that whenever he was proud of you guys,” Poe corrects gently.

“So Tem is right,” Lynia says, wrapping an arm around her brother. Poe smiles at her.

“I’ll miss his hugs,” Hera pipes up. “They always felt nice.”

Walton hums in agreement, drawing Hera into his lap. “Dad is a hugger,” he concurs. He nudges Lynia with his elbow. “He even converted Lynia.”

A dark blush flames Lynia’s cheeks. “He gives good hugs,” Lynia grumbles.

“He could connect to my flowers,” Temmin speaks, his tone soft. “He said they sang to him.”

“Like the whole universe is alive,” Lynia says.

“It is to him,” Temmin replies, and Lynia nods.

Poe listens while he cooks- memories, feelings, notes on the things Finn says or does habitually. His life through the children’s eyes, painted out for him to see.

They describe the man Poe fell in love with. The adoring father Poe always knew Finn would be, the caring, sweet man Poe chose to marry.

“I’m going to check on Dad,” Poe says after he’s placed food in front of each of his kids. He brings a plate for Finn, just in case.

Finn is roused when Poe enters the dark room, either by the opening of the door or by the smell of food. Although he turns his nose up at the eggs Poe’s cooked, he does nibble on a bit of toast while Poe checks him over, adjusting his blankets, sitting the bed up, and finally, pressing a kiss to the top of Finn’s head.

“The kids,” Poe says, his words catching. “They’re gonna be okay.”

“Yeah?” Finn’s voice is hoarse. “They are?”

“They are,” Poe confirms. “They have a lot of you in them.”

Finn raises an eyebrow. “I’m not sure if that’s a good thing.” With one hand, he gestures to himself, wires and tubes and all. “Given their luck.”

“No- hey-” Poe protests, capturing Finn’s hand in his. “I don’t think any of them regret it.” He kisses the back of Finn’s hand. “I certainly don’t, honey.”

“Even now?” Finn whispers. “After I put you all through this?”

“I don’t think you understand what a total catch you are, Finn Dameron. You’ll remember that we agreed that we wouldn’t change this for anything in the universe.”

Finn shrugs, a minuscule movement. “I wonder a lot… when I’m not asleep… if I did enough.” His eyes meet Poe’s, and Poe understands.

“You did a lot in thirty years, sweetheart. I know we talked about it, a long time ago, but- there were times in the war, even before I became general, where I knew that if I died, all that I had done in my life was worth it.” Poe cocks his head to the side. “Well, maybe I’d drink a few less Corellian brandies, but there isn’t a whole lot I would change. I think that, after everything I did-”

“-you had a life well-lived,” Finn nods, his eyes closed. “That’s all I’ve ever wanted, Poe. Since FN-2187. To do something…” His next breath is slow and shaky. “...something that mattered.”

Poe presses a kiss to his lips, brief and chaste. “You’ve far exceeded that goal, Finn. I’m proud of you.”

Finn opens his eyes again, staring up at Poe. They remain that way, in silence, for another few moments, before Finn’s hand falls to his side and his eyes slide shut again.

That’s it. Poe knows- there is a light in Finn’s eyes that dims every day and every hour. The war- the fight- is almost over now. 

They’re relieved. Both of them. At last, the pain will end.

When it happens, Finn says he doesn’t want to be alone. Poe will be there, of course, but if the children wish to be there too, then he won’t deny them and neither should Poe. It’s a difficult conversation: Hera sobs through the whole thing, and she won’t look at Finn or Poe, so she cries onto Walton instead. And Finn himself is speaking less and less, so Poe forces the words out on his own, and it seems like the tears will never end.

Finally, Hera concedes, because Finn starts crying too, and there’s no argument after that. The rest of her siblings will be at Finn’s side, and although they tell Hera she doesn’t have to be there, she insists. Finn and Poe share a look, and they know that her objections are less to what she’ll witness and more to the fact that it will happen. Even with the most desperate of hopes, the most creative of imaginations, there is no way out now.

Walton and Lynia stay awake with Finn that night, allowing Poe to catch up on some much-needed rest. The siblings sit side by side in the shadow-swathed room. There’s relative silence, aside from Finn’s deep breathing, and together they hold vigil by Finn’s bedside. Lynia begins to nod off, her head resting on Walton’s shoulder, but a snuffle arises from Finn’s bed, and she jolts awake.

“What do you need, Dad?” Finn’s eyes are wide, filled with a clarity that probably indicates he’s in pain. Without needing to be asked, Walton grabs the next dose of pain meds for Finn, who only waves Walton off.

“I’ll go back to sleep and I’ll be fine,” Finn mutters. “I just want to have a working mind for a few minutes.”

“Alright.” Lynia exchanges an uncertain glance with Walton.

“Are you taking care of me?” Finn sounds tired, but he blinks at his children, trying to make sense of the situation. Walton nods. “How’s the night shift going?”

“Quiet,” Lynia says. Finn smiles at her sleepily, taking her hand in his.

“You both have done a good job, watching me.” Finn turns his head to look at Poe, fast asleep in the bed beside him. “I don’t think I should tell you to take care of Poe or your siblings.”

“We’re happy to be there for them,” Walton says softly.

“I want you to  _ live,”  _ Finn says, his voice strained. “My children are caring and… kind, and wonderful…” Finn coughs, his shoulders shaking. Lynia rubs his back, supporting Finn until he can breathe with ease once more. “There is more out there in the galaxy than looking after your parents and little siblings.”

He fastens his stare on Lynia. “If you don’t leave Yavin as planned…”

“I will,” she interrupts. “When I’m ready.”

“Good,” Finn yawns, his eyes unfocusing for a moment. “I’m proud of you,” he mumbles, looking to Walton. “Both of you.”

The two siblings stare at each other then, Walton with tears shining in his eyes. Finn stays awake for a few minutes more, but only a few snippets of his words are decipherable and his eyes don’t stay open for long.

Poe takes over for them in the morning, waking and assuming the responsibility of caring for Finn. His children sleep next to Finn in the master bedroom, and they hardly leave his side again.

Meanwhile, Temmin shadows Poe, following him around the house. He gets close to Finn, observing him silently, but few words pass between them.

“I want to talk to him,” Finn whispers desperately, clinging to Poe, “while I still can.”

Temmin refuses to be left alone with his father, making this task particularly difficult. He spends long hours in the garden, tending to the blossoms transplanted from Ryndellia, and to all the others that have thrived with months under the boy’s gentle care.

It’s there where Poe confronts him, taking a seat in the dirt next to his son. “Dad would like to talk with you,” Poe says, his tone cautious. “If you’re up for it.”

Temmin shakes his head, brow furrowing. “What do I say?” His words are hushed, nervous. “I don’t know what to say to him.”

“He’s still Dad,” Poe reminds Temmin gently. “It doesn’t have to be a goodbye if you’re not ready for it.”

His son takes a quivering breath. When he presses a handful of soil next to a flower, his hands are trembling.

“I’ll never be ready.”

“No. Probably not,” Poe acknowledges, smiling ruefully. “I won’t ever be, either. Not fully.”

“Everything has changed.” Temmin stills, staring at the yellow flower in front of him.

“A few things are the same,” Poe tries to reason. “He still loves you more than anything else in the universe, you know.”

Temmin sniffles, wiping at his eyes. Poe stands, wrapping his arms around Temmin, and his son rises into his embrace.

“What will happen?” Temmin’s face presses into Poe’s shoulder. Poe takes a shuddering breath, hugging his son. “What happens when he’s gone?”

“Well,” he sighs. The words are heavy, impossible. “The sun will come up. And a new day will start.”

There’s a warmth soaking through his shirt, and Temmin gives a muffled sob. Poe rocks him in his arms. “And we keep going. And you know that he loves you.” Poe inhales deeply, squeezing Temmin tighter. “He loves you more than anything, Tem.”

“I know he does.” Temmin sniffs again. “I love him too. So much.”

“If you wanna talk to him,” Poe says, sighing, “that’s all you have to do. Just talk.”

Temmin extracts himself from Poe’s arms, surveying the garden. After a minute, he picks a single white blossom, with four rounded petals stretching out from the pistil.

“Is he awake?” Then Temmin shakes his head again, disregarding the notion. “I’ll sit with him.”

Poe follows Temmin, standing in the doorway of the room. Finn is asleep, wholly undisturbed by the new presences joining him. Poe watches for a few minutes more; his son holds Finn’s hand, the white flower clutched between them. Quiet voices filter out of the room for the rest of the day, and when Temmin emerges, his eyes are ringed with red. Wordlessly, he retreats back to Poe’s side, who embraces his son without objection.

In the morning, Rey arrives, her hair wet and tousled by rain and heavy winds. She sheds her poncho and hugs Poe, but wordlessly sweeps into the bedroom, kneeling at Finn’s side.

“Do you feel it?” Finn mutters. She takes his hand. “I feel it all.”

“I do.” Rey’s eyes are welling with tears. “I feel you.”

“You know where to find me, Rey. You know I am with you.”

“I do,” Rey repeats. The tears spill over, one by one, and despite that Rey attempts to smile, her bottom lip quivers. “I love you, Finn.”

“I love you too,” he murmurs. Rey encircles her arms around him the best she can, burying her face in Finn’s shoulder. She sighs against him, tightening her grip, and Finn closes his eyes with her resting there.

That afternoon, a thick fog spreads through the jungle. They stay inside, mostly to maintain proximity to Finn, but Hera watches it roll through the trees until it presses against the transparisteel windows. She can’t make out any shapes, only the endless gray.

She curls up next to Finn to see the sunset. The fog begins to lift, slowly at first, but more quickly as golden light fills the forest. Finn is awake then, his arm around Hera. His head turns towards the window, and together, they watch the sun drive out the fog. The last beams of light are pink and shimmering yellow, illuminating the room and the trees.

Finn smiles sleepily at Hera. She looks up at him, grinning toothily.

“I love you, sweet girl.” The words are slurred, a faint whisper.

“I love you too, Daddy.”

Finn sleeps more than he is awake. And when he is awake, he doesn’t speak aside from a few words here or there. But he writes, in messy, disjointed handwriting on pages of flimsi, and slowly, the tubes around him start to disappear as they wean him off the last of his care. There’s oxygen flowing into his lungs and an IV in his arm, and he’s so, so thin.

He tells Poe how much he loves him, over and over and over. He taps it out in morse code, he writes it, he rasps it out when he can.

“I know, sweetheart. I know you do, baby. I love you too. I won’t forget it.” Poe says, always, always, always.

When his eyes close for the last time, he remembers to say it once more. Poe smiles, sad and sweet and shining, and the brown eyes slide shut.

Finn feels Poe’s arms around him, distantly. His eyes are closed, too heavy to ever open again. The warmth of his children’s bodies curled around him is fading; he is being called away. The whisper of the Force reaches out to him, a tendril of thought drawing him, pulling him to a distant place. Voices murmur his name, promising relief. There’s still pain, but it dissipates by the second. He travels farther and farther away, and there is peace.

Finn’s breath is hot against Poe’s chest. The former pilot watches the gentle rise and fall of his husband’s chest, taking in the peace of his expression. His eyelashes, once long and beautiful, have begun to regrow from their loss after months of treatment. There is a slight fuzz on the top of his head. Poe’s gaze travels down to his children. Lynia is doing the same, examining the details of Finn’s face while she still can. The boys both have their eyes closed, pressed up against Finn’s chest, but his youngest, with the same brown eyes as Finn, stares up at her father. Poe tries to smile then, to show some semblance of comfort, and surprises himself by succeeding. It’s still sad, but he reaches out to stroke her cheek, wiping away one of her stray tears. He looks at Hera; sees his own grief reflected in her beautiful eyes.

And it’s then when Finn’s breath stops.

Temmin begins to cry, heavy sobs leaving him in quick succession. His ear is pressed up against Finn’s chest; the fluttering beat of his heart has gone silent.

Poe needs none of this to know. Finn is gone. He can feel it in the sudden stillness of the room, the loss like a hole punched through his heart.

He looks down into Finn’s face, the man he has loved since the moment they laid eyes on each other. It is him; still warm and human, but the life is gone, and a second later, there is an open space where Finn was, and Poe’s arms are empty.

The wails of his children fill the air. Poe has nothing else to do but draw them closer, and hold them to his chest tightly.

Rey feels it too, a rip in her chest; part of her heart torn away. The Force cries out from the loss, a soft, mournful thing, but as it continues, a whisper in the energy surrounding her, it almost feels as if a peace fills the void, replacing the mourning lament with a quiet, graceful song.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> “Picture a wave. In the ocean. You can see it, measure it, its height, the way the sunlight refracts when it passes through. And... it's there. And you can see it, you know what it is. It's a wave.  
> And then it crashes in the shore and it's gone. But the water is still there. The wave was just a different way for the water to be, for a little while. You know it's one conception of death for Buddhists: the wave returns to the ocean, where it came from and where it's supposed to be.” -Chidi, the Good Place  
> As Eleanor says, not bad, Buddhists. Finn’s final speech- his last moment of clarity with Poe, when the latter asks Finn what dying feeling like- was very much inspired by this scene with Chidi and Eleanor. And remember- it was all good, my loves.


	13. XIII

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I want to do my thank yous here, because I have a lot to say at the end of this (feel free to skip both of these rambles if you would like).  
> Thank you to all my beta readers; Meghan, Ver, and E. Thank you all for your help and support. Thank you to all my readers, those who stuck with me through the pain, who asked questions and cheered me on. Thank you to the people who have said this story resonates with them; I wrote it for people like you. It means so much to have shared this and received love and support.  
> Most of all, thank you to my darling Anna, who let me introduce Finnpoe to her through a very painful, 60k word fic. She read this months before anyone else ever did, she beta’d, she let me bounce ideas off of her and talk through every emotion I’ve had about this thing. My love, I am so grateful to have you as a friend. Thank you honey. <3
> 
> “No one’s ever really gone.” -Luke Skywalker

They hold the service for Finn on a cloudy day. There is an empty grave on Yavin IV, a short way away from their home. The stone bears his name and final title, his epitaph proclaiming him a hero, a General, a Jedi, a father, and a husband. It’s next to Shara Bey’s grave. 

Poe stands in front of the memorials for his mother and husband, feeling numb and drained while tears trickle down his cheeks. His children are hugging him or holding his hand, pressed against their father as if he will suddenly disappear.

“Finn showed me kindness that I hadn’t known in ten years. He showed me what it was to be loved and to have a family again.”

The first service is private, for close family and friends. Nearly a hundred are in attendance anyways. 

Family includes, of course, Rey, Jannah, all of their friends from the Resistance, and each former stormtrooper that Finn had granted liberation that could show up on such short notice. It’s a large crowd, and Poe thinks of how widespread Finn’s love was. It touched every corner of the galaxy.

They cover his grave with flowers from all around the planet, wild and colorful and beautiful. Rey is eulogizing Finn first.

“He was brave and he stood up against every evil in the galaxy for me. He risked his life without a second thought and continued to do so for the causes he believed in.”

Rey’s tone is quiet, choked with tears. She is reading off a small flimsi card, but Poe thinks that she probably can’t read the words in front of her with all the tears in her eyes. Poe exhales and tries to focus on her speech.

“His courage is admirable, but this only speaks to the character of Finn’s heart. He loved passionately, deeply, and widely. When we met, there were few reasons for us to trust each other. We were both desperate and alone, but he never doubted me- he just met me and he loved.”

The ache in Poe’s heart will never go away. Grief burns through him, cementing his feet to the ground. His heart is so heavy, he’ll never be able to move, nor speak, nor breathe again.

Temmin hugs him tighter.

“To me, that’s how Finn will be remembered the most. There wasn’t anything I had to do to deserve his love. He just did. He looked at me and saw someone who was so alone, and he knew that I needed to be seen and to be loved, and he did exactly that.”

Poe takes a deep breath in.

“It was nothing like I’d ever known or thought I could deserve. But after meeting Finn, I never doubted that I wanted anything else in the galaxy but him beside me, and he never let me think I should have anything less.”

Listening to Rey, to her speech and all those that come after, Poe can barely stay upright. He has so little will and energy left, but Lynia squeezes his hand, tears glazing her eyes. Poe feels the warmth of his children against him, and the thought of his family gives him strength.

They hold the service for Finn on a cloudy day, but as the morning creeps away, the sun peeks through the clouds and illuminates the grave, the brilliant light sparkling and beautiful on the stone.

* * *

Something resembling calm settles over the household. It is muted in a way that’s entirely new in their busy home filled with life and children, but they manage the days after Finn’s passing with some illusion of peace, even if Hera clings to Poe every night and none of them can make it through a meal together without someone starting to cry.

But they survive Finn’s death. They survive the funeral and they trudge forward, which is enough of a start for Poe to work with. They keep going.

Rey is there almost every single day, a fact that Poe accepts without question until Rey asks him if she’s overstaying her welcome. She’s not, of course, and Poe tells her as much. He doesn’t think he can handle another absence in the house.

They are preparing for a trip to Chandrila, where a public service will be held for Finn, with officials in attendance and all the galaxy welcome to pay their respects. Poe thinks he will be consulted for the planning much more than he actually is, but a conversation with one of the people who ended up in charge of the whole thing reveals to him that Finn had taken care of most of the arrangements before he died. Figures, Poe reasons, and leaves it at that.

They tell him thousands of people are expected to attend, that all those who Finn liberated and inspired will want to pay tribute to him. Poe is expected to speak, and he wants to decline, but apparently, this wish comes from Finn himself, so he spends his days comforting his children and trying to prepare parting words for the love of his life.

He meets too many people who shake his hand and apologize for Poe’s loss. There’s more formalities than he was ever prepared to deal with, and press, and busy schedules that leave Poe exhausted every time he thinks about what must be done.

He ends up shutting them out, closing the doors on the droids and aides begging for his input. Poe spends his evenings with Rey or his children, and maybe Threepio if he’s feeling tolerant.

There are some people who Poe visits, though. Old friends, Resistance buddies. Countless children, families, people, who have homes and lives because Finn granted them that.

There’s the young woman, who talks with Finn’s levels of passion about galactic reform and liberation. The boy who smiles with the same bubbly excitement that used to be reflected in Finn. The woman and her partner, who show Poe holos of their adopted children with an adoration Poe knew so well in Finn.

They dull the ache. And, when their journey is almost over, Poe stands before an amassed crowd full of beings, stretching through the streets as far as Poe can see. There’s tissues stuffed in his pockets, and Poe can see the kids sitting behind him, their eyes puffy and filled with sorrow, but watchful.

He speaks first. Poe’s voice shakes as he starts his speech.

“My husband asked me here to memorialize him. At first, I thought it was cruel for him to ask me to try and put his life into words after he’s gone. Not only did I lose the love of my life, but in making his plans for this service, Finn ensured that I wouldn't know I’d be making a statement to the rest of the galaxy until five days ago. But then I realized why he did this. He knew I’d leave the speech for the last minute no matter the circumstances, and he knew that five days was enough time for me to figure out why he wanted me to speak in the first place.

“Finn is not a person that can be put into words simply. Nor would he have wanted to be defined by me telling you how kind he was. Or how he was good, and funny, and caring, and a great father. He was all of these things. But in truth, Finn Dameron is best represented by the impact that he left on other people’s lives.”

Poe clears his throat, sniffling loudly. He glances up into the crowd, and notices that several people are wiping their eyes. But Poe looks behind him next, to where his children are watching. Tears track down their faces, but they are holding each other tight. Lynia nods at him, her gaze focused and intent.

“After being born and forced into tyranny, Finn saved my life. He saved me, when I thought I was staring death in the eye.

“Finn also saved millions of people across the galaxy. He made a choice, even when he was scared, to save others who didn’t have the opportunity to flee the life he was born into.

“This is best shown through Eagle Queda, who was rescued at the age of fifteen from a First Order training camp. Although Eagle fought against the Resistance, Finn took him to one of the rehabilitation centers specially designed by my husband, and that’s where Eagle rediscovered who he was beneath the life the First Order had chosen for him. Finn spent hundreds of hours with every patient he could. In the first months after the war ended, I barely saw him, and I don’t think he ever slept, either. But in the end, Finn helped save over half a million stormtroopers, many of whom have found families to spend their lives with. And up until his final days, he continued this work of reuniting loved ones and giving thousands of people the chance to start over. Eagle was one of those. Finn knew him personally, and today, Eagle is a teacher at the Liberation and Reformation Academy.”

Applause ripples through the crowd. Eagle had been at the first service for Finn, and Poe knows he’s here now, too.

“Finn’s legacy also lives on in Clala Graves, who spent twenty-eight years enslaved by the First Order. She was in training for a Black Ops unit, but towards the end of the war, Clala used her skills to lead a rebellion against commanding officers…”

Poe shares countless stories. He’s met hundreds, if not thousands, of the ex-troopers freed by Finn. He knows their names, their faces, and how Finn’s courage and initiative made this possible.

“I have seen Finn’s impact far and wide. I have seen it in my own home- Finn was a father to four beautiful children. They share his legacy of kindness and altruism. Finn has left behind much of his impact. I’ve seen it happen since the day I met him. And this, despite knowing that my husband is gone, is what gives me the strength to go forward, even without him.” 

When Poe is done speaking, he embraces his children. There’s cheering all around him, clashing horribly against the sounds of people blowing their noses, but his family encircles him in their arms and holds him tight.

Poe sighs, tears rolling down his face, and he smiles.

* * *

There is spring at last on Yavin IV. Warmth penetrates the planet, flooding the trees with the beginnings of sunlight. Poe is up early, as always, wrapping his daughter in a blanket and carrying her to the front porch so she can wake slowly on his lap as he enjoys his morning caf. Birds chirp from the branches, singing their greetings for all the forest to hear.

Hera sighs against his chest, shifting in her sleep. Poe looks down at her and smiles. Spring has come again, and the air is sharp and fresh in his lungs. There is life all around them, and the sun rises.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Although this is my last official and planned response to this fic, I am drafting this final note in an early stage of planning; it is January of 2020 and I am still researching names for the Finnpoe kids and doing plot outlines. However, my thoughts are fleeting and I am quick to lose them, so as I concurrently begin and conclude hear my prayer, here is what’s on my mind:  
> There are a multitude of reasons I wanted to write this, most of which are entirely self-indulgent. On a surface level, the idea came to me after tros was released, and I was left with a conclusion to the trilogy that I felt was ultimately unsatisfying. Other flaws aside, what bothered me most was the inconsistent characterization of Rey, Finn, and Poe. Not only that, but Finnpoe was never portrayed on the big screen. I turned to writing to fix this, and initially I wrote a lot of short fics and headcanons. They deserved their happy ending together, so I took a lot of requests and wrote a lot of fluff. This brought me a lot of joy, but because of the messy nature of the sequel trilogy, I felt that I lacked a fundamental understanding of who these characters are. So I set out to explore that, and I wanted to dig deeper into them than I personally ever have before.  
> Tragedy and loss has a way of revealing great truths, even about fictional characters. So, while I endorse nothing but a happily ever after for Finn and Poe, quite the opposite would give me a better grasp on them (though I hope with even the sadness of this story, it is not total misery and unhappiness).  
> In addition, tros came at a time where I felt it was essential to get back to writing. Between the release of the movie and my personal realization, my creativity and passion for storytelling was reignited. Again, I wanted to go deeper; more so than headcanons and preferences, even if those too bring me much joy.  
> Finally, the subject of this fic: loss and sickness and the precariousness of health is a topic close to my heart and my own life. I am very fortunate to be healthy and have those close to me also secure in their health, but this was not delivered easily to me, nor to many other people I know. I am not alone in saying that my health has been a battle, and the journey through medicine and pain is never easy. So I also wanted to venture into my feelings on those matters. During those difficult times in my life, part of the struggle was feeling alone, and I hope that this, if relatable to you, may abate some of that sensation. I wrote hmp for the version of myself that needed to read it all those years ago, and I hope that this may help some people too.  
> Yes, this is a very self-indulgent endeavor. But still, for all the selfish reasons above, I maintain that it is important for me to share this story with others: for the love of Finnpoe, for knowing you’re not alone, and maybe even for finding something meaningful, or at least just entertaining.  
> My very final thoughts are these: I have written much happier content on my tumblr, @primasveraas-writing, and I am very glad to take requests or chat with any of you. But most of all, thank you, dear reader, for sharing this journey with me. Thank you for commenting, leaving kudos and for reading. Your support, reactions, and dedication mean the world to me. From the bottom of my heart, I hope you enjoyed this ride, and I thank you for taking it with me.


End file.
